


Sibs

by IcyAngels452



Category: Animaniacs
Genre: Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Humor, Protective Older Brothers, Protective Siblings, Sibling Love, Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25071577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyAngels452/pseuds/IcyAngels452
Summary: A series of one-shots focused on the bonds between the Warner Brothers and the Warner Sister Dot.  From crashing the Batmobile, annoying Karens, to looking for Wakko while he's trapped in an elevator, there's always something crazy happening with these zany siblings!  Lots and lots of fluff.
Relationships: Dot Warner & Wakko Warner & Yakko Warner
Comments: 194
Kudos: 516





	1. Stress

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Each one-shot is its own separate story unless otherwise specified. Feedback is always appreciated!

_ Stress _

Wakko sat at the Warners’ kitchen table in the water tower, a mound of spaghetti large enough to feed a family of five in front of him. He dipped his fork into the mountain of pasta and spun it around before shoveling a huge bite into his mouth and noisily slurping up a stray noodle, which left him with plenty of sauce on his face.

“Careful, Wakko. We don’t wanna get spaghetti stains on any of these contracts.”

Wakko peeked around his feast to see his older brother sitting on the other side of the dining table, surrounded by mountains of papers that rivaled the size of his dinner. Yakko’s brow was furrowed in concentration, a pen in one hand and his chin resting in the other as he stared down at the paperwork. ‘Pay or Play’ it read at the top.

The middle child grabbed a napkin and wiped off his face, then frowned. “Are you okay? You haven’t moved from that spot in three days. Have you even eaten today?”

Yakko gave a tired grin. “Don’t worry, sib, I’m fine. It’s just the sooner I get these done, the sooner we can get goin’ on the reboot.”

_Reboot._ The word usually made Wakko smile. Finally, after years and years of waiting for another shot at _Animaniacs_ , the Warner siblings were finally getting it. So much had happened since 1998 and he was excited to see what was in store for them.

The past few days, however, it had caused Wakko to be concerned for the health of his older brother. As soon as one of the higher-ups at Warner Bros. had uttered the words “Animaniacs” and “reboot” in the same sentence, Yakko had zoomed into that office like a bullet, ideas and arguments spilling out of his mouth. He had been (and still was) very determined to make this reboot a success. He didn’t want them to end up like the new Powerpuff Girls or Teen Titans Go.

Wakko and Dot had sat outside of one of the meeting rooms at the beginning of the week, ears pressed up to the door while Yakko stood inside talking to the executives, his motormouth moving a mile a minute. _“My little sister is not being voiced by some random celebrity_ ,” they heard him say. _“We need, Rob, Tress, and Jess to come back. And Randy to write the songs. It’s the only way we’ll do it.”_

The network didn’t like that, but with more pushing from Yakko and help from Mr. Spielberg, he got what he wanted. Unfortunately, though, Mr. Spielberg had more power in the creative department than the nitty-gritty of accounting and law, so Yakko was left to negotiate his and his siblings’ contracts himself. And the network was being particularly stubborn about what was in those, too.

And the stress was clearly starting to get to the eldest Warner.

Wakko could see it plain as day. Yakko was a good actor, but not good enough to fool his siblings. He would try to reassure them that he was fine, but the smile that came with it was always tired. His smartass remarks were taking increasingly longer to fly out of his mouth by the day, and sometimes they didn’t come out at all. His appetite was cut in half, as well as his sleep. He was always up until the wee hours of the morning, sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by paperwork. And, most concerning of all, he had acquired a nasty cough that didn’t seem to have any plans of going away soon.

The middle Warner decided to try again. “You really should take a break, Yakko. You don’t have to turn in our contracts for a while.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, not looking up. There was no malice in his tone, just a poor attempt to cover up his exhaustion. “Besides, the studio is having that party for the reboot later tonight. I’ll make it until then.”

Wakko sighed and went back to eating his spaghetti, which he had already almost finished. At least the party would get Yakko away from the kitchen table for a few hours. Scratchy would be there too. Maybe he could help him get Yakko to pace himself on the work.

“I’m home!”

The two boys looked up to see their younger sister opening up the door of the water tower, a paper bag full of groceries in one hand. She reached behind her and pulled the door closed before making her way to the kitchen.

“Hi—” Yakko started, but his own cough interrupted him. “—Dot. What’d ya get at the store?”

Dot frowned in concern, putting the groceries down on the kitchen counter. “Still got that cough, huh.” She walked over to him, gently placing the back of her hand to his forehead.

He gave her a dismissing wave and a smirk that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s nothing. Just allergies.”

Wakko narrowed his eyes at him. “You don’t get allergies, Yakko.”

Dot crossed her arms and looked up at her oldest brother. “Wakko’s right. You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard on these contracts,” she said, gesturing to the enormous stacks of paper. “You’re running on fumes. And don’t you dare say ‘I’m fine’ because we know you’re not.”

Yakko had been ready to say those words again, but her finger to his lips and her scolding had stopped him. “Okay, so I’m a little under the weather, big deal,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just a little cold because of stress. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You went to bed at 4 A.M. this morning and were screaming about wages and budgeting in your sleep,” Dot deadpanned. “Not to mention you sounded like you were coughing up a lung after.” Yakko was about to protest, but she stopped him again. “Please, just promise me and Wakko that you’ll take a break after the party and you won’t even _touch_ any of these papers.”

His eyes darted between his younger siblings, who had dead-set determined scowls on their faces. He sighed in defeat. Maybe he did need a break. “Fine, I promise.”

“Yay!” the other two cheered.

Yakko smiled weakly, putting his pen down on the table. Wakko and Dot were stubborn and sometimes pushy, but he couldn’t say that they didn’t care. “C’mon, sibs. We’ve got a party to get ready for!”

**XXX**

“Wakko, can you hand me my eyeliner?”

“Uhh…”

“No, that’s mascara, Wakko. I need eyeliner. The thing that looks like a pencil.”

He and Dot stood in front of the bathroom mirror in the water tower, getting ready for the party. Dot was applying makeup while Wakko was trying to figure out the manly magic of tying a tie. Yakko was still in their bedroom changing. The two of them stood on stools, both too short to see in the mirror without assistance.

He grabbed the eyeliner closest to him. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks,” she said, beginning to apply it to her eyes. “I’m getting worried about Yakko.”

“Me too,” Wakko replied, fiddling with his tie. He had the motions down for the most part, but the end result never seemed to come out quite right. “You did a good job getting him to take a break later, though. We should spend some time with him tonight. Make sure he gets to sleep okay.”

“Agreed.” She finished up with her eyeliner, then with her mascara. As she put everything back in her makeup bag, she looked over to Wakko, who was trying to tie his tie for the thirtieth time. She sighed. “Come over here.” He turned to face her as she nimbly secured the neckwear in one shot. “You’re hopeless.”

“That’s not what my song says in the movie.”

“Very funny.”

Wakko smiled at his own joke, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He was about to answer her when the soft sound of a doorbell ringing came from outside of the tower.

_“I’ll get it!”_ Yakko’s voice came from the bedroom, followed by several coughs. The two younger siblings exchanged worried looks before hopping down from their stools and stepping out of the bathroom and joining their brother.

Yakko swung the door open to see Dr. Scratchansniff standing in the doorway, his usual lab coat replaced by a tuxedo and a small toupee on his massively bald head. Every fiber of his expression suggested that he didn’t want to be there, but per usual, the Warners ignored this.

“Scratchy!” the three exclaimed. Dot and Wakko leapt into his arms, wrapping themselves around his neck and placing giant kisses on his cheeks.

The p-sychiatrist heaved a heavy sigh. “Vill you three get off of…vait, vhy are there only two of you kidses on me?” He looked down at Yakko, who was grinning up at him, but hadn’t moved an inch since he had opened the door. Strange. Usually he was the ringleader in the game of ‘Let’s-repeatedly-invade-Scratchansniff’s-personal-space-until-he-rips-his-hair-out-and-starts-screaming-and-now-has-to-wear-a-toupee’. “Yakko, how do you feel today?”

“Same as any other day,” he replied with a smirk, but the usual liveliness in his tone was dulled. “With my—,” there was an onslaught of coughs, “hands.”

Scratchansniff looked down at the other two Warners, who had since climbed off of him. Knowing he wasn’t going to get anything but jokes and wit out of Yakko, he decided he would ask the two about it later. Hopefully they would be cooperative since it involved the wellbeing of their brother. “...Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “Anyvay, let’s go to ze party, ya? Mr. Plotz asked me to supervise you tonight.”

“But the party is for us,” Wakko said in protest.

“Yeah,” Dot added, crossing her arms. “How would we even crash it?”

“Relax, sibs,” Yakko said, placing his arms around his siblings. “Besides, this means we get to spend the _whole night_ with Scratchy!” The three seemed to be genuinely excited about that, at least (even though the doctor was not). “C’mon. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the tower. I’m almost done getting ready.”

Scratchansniff noticed that the two younger Warners seemed especially hesitant to leave their older brother, but they began climbing down the tower’s red ladder anyway. He redirected his attention to Yakko, who whipped a small mirror out of his hammerspace so he could properly adjust his bowtie.

“Yakko, are you sure you are okay?”

Within a split second the mirror was gone, and the toon was once again facing the doctor. He made the ‘okay’ symbol with one of his hands and winked. “’Yakko’ spelled backwards is ‘Okkay!’” he replied, followed by a few stifled coughs and a sheepish grin. The doctor wanted to protest, but he was cut off as the kid began pushing him towards the door. “C’mon, Scratchy. We don’t wanna keep my sibs waiting.”

**XXX**

After a twenty-minute walk that consisted of Yakko redirecting conversation away from his health, the four of them arrived at the auditorium. It was set up similarly to the first studio party they attended (that Plotz had rudely attempted to kick them out of), with tables draped in white tablecloths and a stage area with an orchestra up front. The place was loaded with toons, not only from Animaniacs, but Looney Tunes and other Warner Bros. shows as well. As Yakko looked around the room he could see familiar faces at each table, Slappy, Skippy, Pinky and the Brain at one table, the Randy Beaman kid, Minerva, Rita, and Runt at another. There were two notable tables at the front: one filled with the likes of Bugs Bunny, Foghorn Leghorn, Daffy Duck, and Porky Pig, while the other table seated Thaddeus Plotz and presumably executives from Hulu.

“Let’s find our table, ya?” Scratchansniff offered. He led them to their table near the front of the auditorium and the four sat down. Under the table’s centerpiece laid a brochure, which Wakko was about to take a bite out of, but Yakko snatched it out of his hands before he could. He opened it and began skimming.

“Tonight’s itinerary _…after dinner, we will be treated with three performances from the Warner brothers and their sister Dot. The trio will be performing ‘I’m Cute’, ‘Wakko’s America’, and ‘Yakko’s World.’”_ He handed the brochure back to Wakko, who swallowed it whole. “Gee, how nice of them to tell us we’re performing ahead of time,” he said sarcastically.

“You kidses will do great,” Scratchansniff said, attempting to be reassuring. It didn’t seem to do anything, however. Wakko and Dot were staring at their brother, concern written on both of their faces, while Yakko looked around the room in an attempt to avoid their gazes.

“You don’t have to get up there if you aren’t feeling well, Yakko,” Wakko offered. “Dottie and I can do our songs and pick another one to replace yours.”

Dot jabbed the middle child in the side with her elbow. “Don’t call me that, Wakko.” Her voice softened just slightly as she looked at her other brother. “He’s right, though. If you try to do that song right now, you’re going to have a coughing fit.”

“Relax, I can do it—” a cough interrupted him once again, “—sibs.” He smiled cheekily. “Besides, I’ve never turned down a request for it before. Or messed it up while performing. Why break the record over a little cough now?”

“It’s more than just a little…” Dot groaned, putting her head down on the table. “Never mind.”

“There, there, sis,” Yakko said, patting her on the back. “I’ll be fine. But ya might wanna pick your head up. Dinner’s coming.”

At the very mention of dinner, Wakko practically leapt out of his chair, speeding to the oncoming waiters and all but ripping the silver platters out of their hands. He sprinted back to the table, laid a platter of lobster out in front of each of them, and began to noisily chow down on his own.

Scratchansniff nervously looked over to one of the other tables near the front of the room to see Plotz glaring at him and Wakko. He facepalmed. Clearly those lessons he had given them on proper etiquette all those years ago had not stuck with the passage of time.

As the guests ate dinner, Plotz and the Hulu executives gave speeches. Scratchansniff watched the speakers intently, but kept a watch over the “kidses” out of the corner of his eye. Luckily, minus Wakko’s waiter stunt, they weren’t being too out of control tonight (likely because of whatever was going on with Yakko). As the Hulu executive droned on, he noticed Yakko push his barely touched plate towards Wakko, who gladly devoured everything on the plate in under 60 seconds.

After a few more speeches, Plotz reappeared on stage. “Thank you all for coming tonight,” the short, rotund man said into the microphone. “Please enjoy the rest of your dinner. In a few minutes, the three troublemakers—I mean, _stars—_ of our show will be performing some of their most iconic songs from the original _Animaniacs_ series. We hope to capture the same magic in the upcoming reboot.” Claps filled the auditorium as he stepped away from the podium and off the stage.

Yakko rubbed his aching head at the noise, squeezing his eyes shut. Not only was that cough getting worse, but a migraine had decided to plague him over the course of dinner. The mere thought of eating his food had brought on waves of nausea, hence Wakko’s treatment to a second lobster. He opened his eyes to see none other than Thaddeus Plotz stomping over to their table with a scowl on his face.

“Warners, you’re on in five minutes,” he growled. “Same order as the itinerary. And all of the big shots at Hulu are watching, so _don’t_ screw this up,” he added, jabbing a fat finger at the three of them.

Yakko wanted to spit something back at the CEO as he walked away, but the throbbing pain in his head prevented him from coming up with any insults. He coughed again, the force making him feel like he had been pounded in the brain with a mallet. He gulped down his fourth glass of water for the night. Maybe this time it would soothe his burning throat.

“I’m gonna head backstage,” Dot said, hopping out of her chair. She looked at her brothers. “You guys coming?”

“Be there in a sec,” Yakko replied. He looked at his younger brother who was licking both of his plates clean. “Wakko, you got any cough drops?”

Wakko reached into his suit and pulled out his gag bag, sticking his hand down deep and rummaging around. He pulled out a huge bag of Halls and peered inside. “I’ve only got one left. I think I ate the rest yesterday.”

“It’ll do,” Yakko said, taking the lozenge from his brother. “Look, Wak, my song is one thing, but I don’t wanna risk messing anything up for you and Dot. Think you can do the backup for ‘I’m Cute’ on your own?”

He nodded, stuffing the gag bag back in his suit. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Yakko said, patting him on the shoulder. He could see the concern in his brother’s eyes for him, but Dot was going to start her song in less than a minute. There was no time to fret over his health. “I’ll be here with Scratchy. Break a leg, Mr. Baton-Rouge-Louisiana.”

“You too, Mr. United-States-Canada-Mexico-Panama,” Wakko said with a goofy grin, his tongue hanging out of his mouth once again. He sped off to the backstage area, where Dot was probably internally screaming about her brothers not being ready 20 seconds before the music started up.

Scratchansniff looked at the remaining Warner, who was rubbing his head again, a bead of sweat rolling down his face. He had never seen him so downtrodden before, a stark contrast to his usually quick-witted zany self. Despite all of the headaches the Warners had caused for him in the past, the p-sychiatrist couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “Yakko, vhy are you doing this? You are not vell. They vill understand if you cannot perform tonight.”

Yakko shook his head, which seemed to cause him great pain. He gestured to Wakko on Dot on stage, who were well into Dot’s ‘I’m Cute’ song. “I gotta do it for them, Scratchy,” he replied hazily. “If I’m not up there at least once tonight after the fuss I made with the higher-ups, it’s gonna look bad on all three of us. They treat us like a single entity. And I don’t want anyone thinkin’ poorly about my sibs because of me.”

The doctor nodded, trying to cover his surprise that Yakko had given him a straight answer. While he still didn’t agree with the idea of him practically rapping every country on stage while he looked like he could barely stand, he could at least somewhat understand why he was doing it. “You are a good brother, Yakko.”

Yakko slumped down on the table, his cheek making contact with the cool tablecloth. “Thanks,” he replied quietly. “I’m tryin’.”

_“She’s cute!”_

Scratchansniff turned his attention back to the stage. Dot and Wakko had just finished her big number. As the crowd cheered, the youngest Warner hopped off the stage and rushed back to her table while Wakko got ready to perform his song. She jumped into the seat next to her brother.

“How are ya doing?” she asked quietly.

“Doing what?” he said with a weak snicker, but the snicker was cut off when another painful pulse shot through his head, causing him to groan.

Even on the brink of passing out, he was still trying to act like everything was okay. Dot shook her head and very gently placed the back of her gloved hand to his forehead once again. “You’re burning up,” she said with a frown. She grabbed the nearly empty pitcher of ice water and poured two ice cubes into her palm, taking one ice cube in each hand and carefully pressing them to Yakko’s neck and forehead. He let out a little moan of relief. “Just rest for a couple minutes, okay?”

“Thanks, sis,” he mumbled. There was no sarcasm in his voice, as he genuinely appreciated his sister’s care. He closed his eyes, listening to Wakko’s little Scouse voice and fiddle rattle off all 50 states and their capitals. He secretly wished that their homeland had a few more states, just so he could lay there for a few more precious moments. But unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and the song was coming to an end.

_“And Nevada, Carson City! That’s all the capitals, there are!”_

Head throbbing, Yakko forced himself into a sitting position as the crowd cheered for his little brother. He wished he could applaud along with them, but he was currently putting all his focus and energy towards simply standing up. He wobbled to his feet and tried to look up at Wakko on the stage, but he could only see the colorful spots and stars that filled his vision. _Not good._

Dot, sensing his struggle, got up from her seat and took his hand and led him backstage. Yakko did his best to appear as his confident, zany self as they walked by other tables, but it was difficult when he felt like all the water he had gulped down that night was going to come back up. He had never had stage fright in his life, and at this moment he still didn’t. But when they had first started filming _Animaniacs,_ Wakko had it pretty bad and had always complained of nausea. He had to give his brother credit. Bouncing around the way they did when your stomach felt like it was boiling was not an easy task.

The stars and colors in his eyes were starting to disappear as he and Dot made it backstage, but his vision was blurry and his dizziness had reached an all-time high. He looked down just slightly to see a splotch of red and baby blue, presumably Wakko in his hat and suit. It looked like he was holding two objects in his hands.

“I’ve got your cap and pointer thingy,” the middle Warner said, holding them up. 

Yakko took the black graduation cap and placed it on his head, hoping it was on straight, and almost missed the pointer as he reached for it. “Thanks, Wak,” he whispered.

“You’ve got this,” he whispered back.

“We’ll be back at the table with Scratchy,” Dot added. She gave his hand a little squeeze. “Good luck.” She and Wakko headed back the way they came, leaving him alone.

A drumroll from the orchestra rumbled throughout the auditorium, signaling his cue was coming soon. Though the world swayed beneath him, Yakko took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his brow, and steeled himself. It was only a two-minute song. Less than that, even. He only had to last 120 seconds.

_“And now, the nations of the world, brought to you by…Yakko Warner!”_

_Cough drop, don’t fail me now._

Using what little strength he had, he leapt on to the stage, a pulse of pain shooting up the back of his neck as he landed. It took all of his concentration to not wince or groan as he lightly bounced his knees to the beat of the song. The stage lights felt like they were burning into his eyes, intensifying the pounding in his brain. He stole a quick glance at the world map behind him and silently thanked the animators who decided it should be color-coded all those years ago. He couldn’t make out the borders of any of the countries.

He inhaled a short breath as another wave of dizziness hit him, threatening to knock him off his feet. He really felt like he could pass out now. But as he looked out into the crowd, he could make out a familiar splotch of red at one of the front tables and a pink blur next to it. He steadied himself once more and smiled, using every ounce of his acting skills to cover the immense feeling of sickness he was getting all throughout his body.

_I gotta do it for them._

“United States, Canada, Mexico, Panama, Haiti, Jamaica, Peru…”

**XXX**

Dot sat between Wakko and Scratchansniff, watching her brother closely as he sang and danced on stage, pointing to and reciting the nations of the world like it was nobody’s business. She had to admit, within the first few seconds of the song, she really thought he was gonna pass out before he even opened his mouth. But once he started singing, it almost seemed like he was completely healed from whatever was ailing him. His voice was strong and his movements were up to speed, completely in time with the orchestra.

Of course, knowing him so well, she and Wakko could spot little indicators that Yakko wasn’t operating at 100%. His tail, which usually flicked in time with his hips, was mostly dormant throughout the song. When he danced between sections of the map, there was a little less height in his jumps. But other than that, it was as if he was his normal self.

Wakko seemed to be thinking the same thing. “He’s doing really well,” he whispered to her. Yakko had just reached Asia on the map.

Dot nodded. “Hopefully he’ll be able to keep it up once he gets to Africa.” She had tried to sing the song a few times before herself and, much to her dismay, had never been able to successfully complete that section. With the speed the song was going and no time to breathe between “Zaire” and “Ethiopia”, you had to have lungs of steel to successfully make it through to the end of the line. Yakko had never flubbed it even once, but he had also never performed while being this sick…

“Here it comes,” Wakko whispered.

_“Dahomey, Namibia, Senegal, Libya, Cameroon, Congo, Zaire! Ethiopia, Guinea-Bissau, Madagascar, Rwanda, Maore, and Cayman…”_

_He even did the spin._

Their brother was a goddamn legend.

_“Monaco, Liechtenstein, Malta, and Palestine, Fiji, Australia, Sudan!”_

As the final chord played and the crowd cheered, Yakko placed his hands on his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath. He gave a weak smile and wave to the crowd before limply flopping face-first onto the stage. The crowd laughed—they had seen him sing every word in the English language before. This must’ve been part of the act.

Dot nudged her brother. “We better go check on him.” She and Wakko hurried to the stage and climbed up the front, Scratchansniff close behind. Plotz was already at the mic again on the far end of the stage and talking to the guests.

Wakko was the first to reach his brother’s side. He put a hand on his shoulder and gently rolled him over. “How are ya holdin’ up, Yakko?”

Yakko’s eyes were closed and the only response he gave was a delirious groan.

Scratchansniff frowned in concern, looking down at the three Warners. “I vill help you kidses bring him back to the vater tow—”

Before he could even finish, little Wakko Warner had scooped his much taller older brother up in his arms and practically flown out the doorway, Dot right behind him.

**XXX**

“Careful with his head, Wakko.”

“I heard you the first twenty times, Dot.”

The three siblings were back in their bedroom in the water tower, having made it there in record time. Wakko very carefully placed his brother onto his respective bed, making sure that his head was properly supported by the pillow. Yakko was still delirious, flittering in and out of consciousness and occasionally groaning.

“I don’t think he’s eaten anything since yesterday,” Wakko said, loosening the bowtie around his sibling’s neck. “No wonder he passed out.”

“This is all the stupid higher-ups’ fault!” Dot hissed. Wakko shushed her, prompting her to lower her voice. “They shouldn’t be giving him such a hard time with these contracts. Who leaves a fourteen-year-old to negotiate three of them by himself, anyway? And what was that stunt about not telling us ahead of time that we would be performing?!”

Wakko didn’t have an answer for her as the two quietly made their way to the kitchen, Dot looking like she wanted to tear every piece of paper on the kitchen table to shreds. Instead, she occupied herself by opening the freezer and grabbing an ice pack while Wakko popped two pieces of bread into the toaster, not for himself, but for Yakko.

“I should give those jerks a piece of my mind,” Dot grumbled as she grabbed a clean towel from the counter and wrapped it around the ice pack. “They’ll wish they never messed with Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa…”

Wakko ignored his sister as she continued her rant, grabbing the toast as it popped out of the machine. He threw the two pieces on a plate from the cabinet before coating them with peanut butter and grabbing a Capri-Sun pouch from the fridge. _Something easy on the stomach and to get the blood sugar up_ , Yakko had always told him when he was sick.

Dot was still quietly seething by the doorway, but at least her rant was over. She and Wakko snuck back into the bedroom with their items in hand, placing the food on the nightstand next to the bed and the ice pack on their brother’s head.

“He usually talks in his sleep,” Wakko said, looking down at his older sibling, who was now silently snoozing.

“This must be the quietest he’s been since birth,” Dot muttered, carefully dragging two chairs into the room from the kitchen and placing them next to the bed. She plopped down in one while Wakko took the other.

“…I miss the talking already.”

“Me too.”

**XXX**

Scratchansniff slowly opened the door to the water tower, not wanting to disturb its inhabitants with its rusty creaking. He snuck in and silently shut the door behind him. “Vakko? Dot?” he whispered into the darkness. “Anybody home?” He looked down at the plastic bag in his hand. It had been about an hour since the Warners had fled their own party, and the p-sychiatrist had used the time to go to the 24/7 drug store. He wasn’t quite sure what was ailing Yakko, so he had gotten a little bit of everything: aspirin, cough and cold medicine, Pepto Bismol, and a little package of Saltines. Hopefully at least one of the items would be useful.

He crept further into the house and peered into the Warners’ bedroom. In the dim light, he could see Yakko sleeping in his bed while Wakko and Dot were snoozing in chairs next to him, Dot’s head slumping on Wakko’s shoulder. Not wanting to wake them, he made his way to the kitchen so he could put the medicine in a place where they would find it.

He turned on a light in the kitchen and raised an eyebrow at what he saw. The place at the kitchen table that still had a chair (presumably Yakko’s), was covered in a mountain of paperwork. He made his way over to the chair and gently placed the bag down as he skimmed the top of one of the papers.

_Pay or Play._

He frowned. Yakko was filling these contracts out _himself_? Scratchansniff had even hired a lawyer to assist him with his own. It would have been way too much of a headache for one person. And, knowing Yakko, he had probably taken it upon himself to take care of Wakko and Dot’s contracts too.

The p-sychiatrist took a stray piece of paper from his coat pocket and grabbed the pen on the table, leaving a note for Yakko. He placed it securely where it would be seen and, just as quietly as he had come, shut off the lights and left the water tower.

**XXX**

Yakko groaned as he opened his eyes, seeing the light filter through their stain glass window, and feeling something cool and wet on his forehead. He reached up and took it in his hand, noticing it was a towel-wrapped ice pack. He turned to look at the time on his nightstand but found that the clock was obscured by a pouch of Capri-Sun and a plate of toast.

He smiled softly. “Guess Wakko does listen to me, after all.”

“Hmm?”

He turned the other way to see Wakko and Dot sitting next to his bed in chairs, still in their party clothes from the night before. Dot was fast asleep, practically curled up in her brother’s lap. Wakko was awake, a tired but happy smile on his face, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he looked at Yakko expectedly.

“Wakko, have you been up all night?” the older brother asked.

“Most of it,” he replied, rubbing an eye. “I fell asleep a couple times. Dot and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He pointed to the nightstand. “I made you toast.”

Yakko smiled again, sat up, and grabbed the plate. “Thanks, sib.” He took a bite. It was cold and kind of stale by now, but after not being able to eat the night before, the food was a welcome blessing. “You two should get more sleep, though.”

Wakko shook his head. “I’ll be okay. We’re not doing anything today. And Dottie over here has been making my leg fall asleep for the past two hours, so that must count for something.”

Yakko chuckled before shrugging. “Suit yourself. I’m gonna use the bathroom.” He slowly rose from his bed, thankful that his dizziness was much more manageable and that the fire in his throat was starting to peter out. As he walked by the kitchen, he noticed a white plastic bag on his seat.

_That’s weird. Didn’t Dot come home with paper yesterday?_

He walked into the room and peered into the bag, seeing that it was full of over the counter medication. Before he could speak up to ask Wakko about it, his gaze landed on a note on the table with familiar handwriting.

_Hi Yakko,_

_You gave us quite a fright last night! But you are in good hands with your siblings. I went to the store and got a few things for you. I hope at least one of the medications will alleviate some of your symptoms._

_Also, I noticed that you are attempting to take care of these contracts by yourself. Please feel free to bring them with you to your next appointment. Since we share the same VA, I imagine our contracts look very similar. I can give you some tips on managing your stress, too. It will be much more productive than the usual zaniness…_

_Your brother and sister are right. Take a break!_

_\--Scratchy (though I still take some umbrage to that…)_

Yakko smiled and placed the note back down on the table before heading to the bathroom. After a few minutes he was back in his room again, grabbing the toast and Capri-Sun, but not without noticing his siblings weren’t in their chairs anymore.

He peeked into the living room where an old Foghorn Leghorn cartoon was on TV. Wakko had somehow managed to migrate to the couch and put it on without waking up Dot, who once again had her head in his lap. Yakko tip-toed into the room and took a seat on the couch next to his baby brother, wrapping an arm around his shoulder with his free hand.

“You kept your promise to me and Dot last night,” Wakko said, looking up at his brother.

“Ehhhhh…I’m not so sure if it counts if I was incapacitated, Wak,” he replied. “Tell ya what though. I promise that I’m not gonna touch those contracts the _whole_ day today. I’m gonna focus on feelin’ better and spending time with my sibs.” He smiled. “Deal?”

Wakko smiled back. “Deal.”

It was more than he could’ve ever wished for.


	2. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dot gets stood up for a date, her brothers make an effort to comfort her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments so far! Here's another one-shot (I actually wrote this one before the first chapter). Enjoy!

_ Date _

Yakko Warner was sitting on the couch in the water tower, his feet propped up on the coffee table covered with magazines, the TV remote in his hand. There wasn’t much going on in the studio lot today, leaving the Warners to try to find entertainment for themselves. He clicked through the channels absentmindedly, looking for something at least _slightly_ entertaining to watch. “Boring…boring…boring…”

His younger brother hopped onto the couch next to him, but proceeded to sit on it upside down, his head resting on the couch cushions as his feet dangled in the air. Somehow, the red hat on his head defied gravity and never threatened to fall from his head. “Didja find anything good to watch, Yakko?” he asked, his Scouse accent strong.

“Not yet,” the older toon replied, continuing to flip through channels. “Just lots of cruddy reality TV and Fox and CNN complaining about each other.” He smirked. “In other words, I’ve only found cruddy reality TV.”

Wakko put a hand to his chin, thinking for a moment. “Aha!” Suddenly he sprang to an upright position, landing closer to Yakko on the couch. “Can we watch my Don Knotts video collection? Pleeaseee?” he begged. His puppy-dog eyes shined brightly, a bright red tongue sticking out of his mouth.

“Ehhh…I don’t know, Wak,” Yakko replied, finally taking his eyes off the screen and looking at his brother. “We’ve already watched it twice this week.”

“But that was with Dot, and she always COMPLAINS the entire time,” the younger sibling whined. “She talks through entire episodes and I can’t even hear myself think—”

“That’s because there aren’t any thoughts in your head to be _heard_ , Wakko.”

The two boys looked back at the TV to see their younger sister standing in front of it, glaring at them. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

Wakko gulped while Yakko smiled, the smallest hint of nervousness on his face. “Hey sis,” he said with a little wave. “What are you up to?”

Dot’s glare was suddenly replaced with a smile as she pulled two pink frilly dresses on hangers out of nowhere. “Which dress makes my eyes look cuter, this one or this one?” she asked, holding up each respective dress.

Wakko knit his eyebrows in confusion, studying the two dresses intently. “They’re the exact same dress,” he said thoughtfully, looking at the identical patterns.

“They are not!” Dot exclaimed, bonking him on the head with one of the hangers. The middle child rubbed his cap as she continued, “This one is a slightly lighter shade of pink than the other one.”

Wakko was about to argue, but Yakko motioned his hand in front of him, signaling him to stop. “You should go with the lighter one,” he said quickly. “Now what’s the big occasion?”

Dot tossed the unchosen dress at her brothers, the fabric hitting Wakko in the face as he tried to sneak the remote away from Yakko. “I have a date,” she replied as she pulled out a pocket-sized mirror and began to apply lipstick.

Wakko took an enormous bite out of the dress that was now bunched up in his lap. “Poor guy,” he mumbled.

Dot ignored the comment as she excitedly told Yakko about her plans for the night. “He’s gonna take me out to a movie, dinner, and then we’re gonna watch the fireworks at the lake!” She was practically bouncing up and down from excitement, and the flower in her hair followed suit. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”

Yakko crossed his arms as a mischievous smile spread across his face. “And who has the honor of taking my darling little sister out on a date tonight?”

“Justin Bieber!”

Wakko made a hacking noise.

Yakko’s smile disappeared as his arms fell to his sides. The Warners didn’t leave the tower as often as they used to when their show was on the air, but he still made an effort to stay up-to-date on what was happening in Hollywood. And from what he had seen, Justin wasn’t always the greatest guy. He recovered quickly, however, swallowing his big brother instincts. Dot was perfectly capable of defending herself and it wouldn’t be fair to try to keep her from going. “Dot, when exactly did Justin ask you out on a date?”

The youngest Warner was still looking into her pocket mirror, straightening out the flower in her hair. “Well, when we were in the waiting room at Scratchy’s office last week and you and Wakko were staring at Hello Nurse, he came in and we started talking. I’m gonna meet him at the movies.”

“Good thing it’ll be dark in the theater,” Wakko said, casually leaning back into the couch. “You won’t be able to go blind because of his Bieber mop hair.”

“He hasn’t looked like that in _years_ , Wakko,” Dot fired back with a roll of her eyes.

“Right. He’s got that weird mustache now.”

“WAKKO!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Yakko said, getting between his two siblings. “No need to get the mallets out.” The two relaxed, Dot sitting down on the coffee table as Wakko leaned back into the sofa again. “Now Dot,” he said carefully, looking at his little sister. “Make sure you’re home by midnight. And don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

“That’s not giving me many limitations,” she quipped. She hopped to her feet and stood on the coffee table, then suddenly spun around. Within a split second, she was in the pink frilly dress that Yakko had chosen earlier. “How do I look?” she asked, knowing full well the answer.

“Almost as cute as Wakko,” Yakko said with a snicker. He ruffled her hair despite her protests about him ‘messing it up.’, as well as her objections to the Wakko comment. “Now remember what I said about being home by midnight,” he said as she began making her way toward the water tower door.

“And bring home your leftovers from dinner if you have any!” Wakko called over his shoulder, still smiling at his sister’s objections.

“I know, I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. Yakko had made his way to the door as well, pushing the heavy steel open for her. “I’ll see you guys later!” She then jumped down from the tower’s balcony and landed gracefully on the studio lot, making her way towards the main entrance and the street below.

Yakko leaned against the tower’s railings as he watched his little sister disappear into a taxi cab. “Be careful, sis,” he whispered.

**XXX**

“See, wasn’t that better without Dot complaining over everything?” Wakko asked, tossing his Don Knotts tapes and DVDs into his gag bag. After Dot had left, Wakko had somehow convinced his older sibling to watch the entire collection with him.

Yakko yawned, leaning further back into the couch. “I don’t know, Wakko. I think it was harder to hear what was going on over the sound of you chewing.”

Wakko pulled a footlong sub out of his bag and swallowed it whole. “Well I’ve got to tide myself over until Dot gets home with her leftovers.” He looked down at the coffee table, spotting a magazine with a cute blonde on the cover. “Hellooooooooooooo nurse!” he exclaimed, grabbing the magazine and hopping onto the couch next to Yakko.

“Hey, share with your big brother,” Yakko said quickly, snatching it out of Wakko’s hands. After the two boys ogled at the beautiful young woman for a few minutes, Yakko finally read the headline on the front page. “Hailey Baldwin engaged to…”

Oh no.

**XXX**

“Justin? Justin?”

Dot stood outside one of Burbank’s many movie theaters as her eyes scanned the busy streets for her date. The movie had started over twenty minutes ago and he was nowhere to be seen. She lifted up her dress ever so slightly so the fabric wouldn’t drag along the dirty sidewalk and made her way around the corner of the street.

“Maybe I’m at the wrong theater,” she said to herself. She had to be, after all. No one ever stood Dot Warner up for a date.

As she walked down the boulevard, she passed a five-star restaurant, one of the countless she and her brothers had been banned from due to their usual antics and Wakko’s insatiable appetite. She peered into the window and gently pressed her cute red nose against the glass. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling over the formal dinner party that was happening below. Men and women stood in formalwear as they sipped glasses of champagne. At the front of the room there was a small stage where a young man and woman stood in front of a microphone making an announcement.

Dot squinted her eyes, peering at the man. _Justin?_

It was Justin Bieber, alright. His arm was around his bride-to-be as he spoke into the microphone. _An engagement announcement._ That’s what the party was for.

The youngest Warner was seething at this point, wishing her eyes could burn a hole through the glass and into the singer. He was _engaged_? Why would he even ask her out on a date? To screw with her? To waste her time?

Dot let out an angry growl before whipping her mallet out of her dress, aiming it at the glass window. When the weapon was only a centimeter away from smashing the glass, she suddenly stopped. She could crash the party and drop an anvil on Justin’s head, but what good would it do? The Warners had already gotten in trouble with this restaurant once. Destroying the place would only earn her and her brothers a stronger lock on the water tower.

She sighed, put the mallet away, and walked off, no longer caring that her dress was dragging along the dirty sidewalk.

**XXX**

Dot sat in the grass and stared up at the night sky. Fireworks burst and fizzled in the air above the lake, the bright colors reflected in the water. She had gone to the lake where she and Justin were supposed to watch the fireworks together. She didn’t want Yakko and Wakko to know that someone had stood her up until she was sure she wouldn’t be sad in front of them. They loved her deeply, and she loved them back even more so, but she wasn’t quite ready for their playful jabs about her failed date tonight.

“Is this seat taken?”

Dot looked up to see her oldest brother with a friendly smile on his face, his arm gesturing to the grass next to her. “It’s empty,” she said, averting his gaze.

Yakko sat down next to his sister before pulling out a small cardboard carton from behind him. It was white and filled with onion rings and fries, the word ‘Jack’ written on a cube drawn on the side. “Have a Fring?” he offered, extending the box out to her.

Dot gave a weak smile before taking the carton of fast food, but didn’t eat any of it, directing her eyes back to the grass patch in front of her. Any moment Yakko would ask what had happened, why she was here alone. She took a deep breath and decided to rip off the band-aid. “Yakko, Justin—”

“Say no more, sister sibling,” Yakko said, gently cutting her off. He put an arm around her, allowing her to nestle her head against his shoulder. “I know.”

Dot let out a sigh of relief, wrapping her arms around him. He wasn’t gonna pick on her about the date, at least not tonight. Maybe down the road when her pride had healed and she was ready to take it. But right now, he was showing his more tender side that only she and Wakko ever got to see, where his smartass remarks paused for a quick moment so he could be there emotionally for his younger siblings. She looked up at him. “How did you know I was here?”

“Call it a sixth sense,” Yakko replied, ruffling her hair. She didn’t complain this time. He jabbed a thumb over his other shoulder. “We would’ve been here earlier, but once Wakko realized that you probably wouldn’t be bringing home leftovers tonight, he forced the taxi driver to stop at five Jack-in-the-Boxes. Hence the Frings.”

Dot turned her head to see Wakko about ten feet behind them with a red wagon full of to-go bags, half of them devoured already, the other half in the process of being eaten. She rolled her eyes, but on the inside, she was happy to see that he had come as well. “Go fig.” She looked back up at Yakko. “I guess we should be getting home soon?”

“No way, sis,” Yakko replied, suddenly springing to his feet. “Justin Bieber might’ve ruined your night, but Wakko and I are here to un-ruin it. Find some music, Wak, and none of that Bieber trash!”

Wakko jumped up from his pile of Jack-in-the-Box and pulled out his gag bag. As he rummaged through it, he tossed a lawnmower, Danny DeVito, and a cinder block over his shoulder. “Here he is!” he exclaimed. He pulled out a grumpy old man with orange hair in a blue suit, holding a trumpet. “It’s Trump on the trumpet!”

“You don’t have Bill Clinton on the sax?” Yakko asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wakko peered back into the gag bag. “He’s in here, but he’s talking to that Monica lady.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Oh. They’re not talking anymore.”

Yakko blew a kiss at the fourth wall. “Goodnight, everybody!”

“Ringo, that’s where you went!”

Yakko and Dot looked back at Wakko, who had just produced a full drum set as well as a man with glasses and a beard. “I’ve missed you,” the middle sibling said to the Beatle. He then pointed to Danny DeVito, who was trying to sneak away into the woods next to the lake. “Hit it, Danny!”

Startled, Danny ran back to the other two men as they began to play their instruments and jumped right into singing “Variety Speak.”

“Ehhhh…it’s not quite the same as having the entire orchestra, but they’re busy recording for the reboot,” Yakko said with a smirk. He extended his hand to his little sister, who was still sitting in the grass next to his feet. “Care for a dance, cute little sister?”

Dot smiled and took his hand, gasping as he quickly pulled her to her feet, catching her before she could fall. “I’ve got you,” he reassured her. “Now let’s dance!” Dot giggled as he spun her around gracefully, the two just as good of dancers as they were when their show had been on the air. They danced across the grass to the upbeat tune, the fireworks illuminating the scene (and helping them avoid any obstacles, such as rocks and Wakko’s Jack-in-the-Box pile).

Dot looked up at her older brother, who was slouching just a bit to make dancing with their height difference a little easier for her. “Thanks for coming out here tonight, Yakko,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”

Yakko gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Anytime, sis. I’m always here for ya.” He grinned. “But don’t just thank me.” He continued to dance with her, but turned his attention to their brother, who was singing at the top of his lungs with Danny DeVito. “Hey Wakko, jump in!” He spun Dot in his direction and Wakko caught her moments before she bumped into the other singer. The middle Warner was a good dancer, but yet not _quite_ as graceful as his siblings. His tongue stuck out of his mouth as he looked down in concentration, making an effort not to step on his sister’s feet or dress.

“And thank you too, Wakko,” Dot said with a smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t have any leftovers.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, waving his hand. “I still got dinner tonight.”

“I know,” Dot said, pinching her nose, but she continued to dance with her brother. “You smell like Frings.”

He gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

The three siblings danced well into the night, laughing and joking with each other the whole way through. By the time they had finished, their feet were sore and their eyelids heavy. Danny, Ringo, and Trump disappeared into the night, going off to who-knows-where. The Warners had elected to walk home rather than taking a cab and were soon atop the water tower, standing in front of the heavy door.

Dot was receiving a piggyback ride from Wakko. “Careful, Wakko,” she said with a laugh. “If you trip over my dress it’s a long way down to the pavement.”

He grunted under his sister, their similar sizes making the piggyback ride quite difficult to maintain. “I think I’m a little short for this, Dot,” he panted. “I think ya should’ve asked Yakko.”

Yakko pushed the water tower’s door open. “Alright sibs, time to turn in.”

“Into what?” the two younger Warners asked eagerly.

The oldest sibling chuckled. “I walked right into that one. C’mon.” He motioned them inside and followed shortly after, shutting the door behind him. Wakko climbed up the ladder of their bunked beds and into the bed on top, immediately falling asleep and snoring.

Yakko and Dot smiled and shrugged at each other, heading for the bathroom to get ready for bed. Soon they were back at the bunk again, Yakko in his pajamas and Dot with curlers in her hair. Dot made her way up the ladder to the middle bunk with her brother right behind her to tuck her in.

“You gonna be alright tonight, Dot?” he asked softly.

“I’ll be okay,” she replied through a yawn. She looked up at him, and with little warning, pulled him into a hug. “I love you, Yakko.”

Yakko paused for a moment in surprise, then smiled and returned the gesture, holding her in a warm embrace. “I love you too.” He released her after a few moments, allowing her to crawl under the covers as he tucked the top corners of the comforter under her pillow. “Goodnight, sis.”

She smiled and closed her eyes. “Night, Yakko.”

Yakko quietly made his way up the ladder to his little brother, who had been so tired he didn’t even bother pulling the comforter up over himself. He shook his head and smiled, gently pulling the blanket up and tucking him in the same way he had for Dot. A little bit of drool had escaped Wakko’s mouth, prompting the other Warner to softly brush it away from his lip with his thumb. “Night, Wak,” he whispered. But Wakko was already fast asleep.

Yakko slowly and carefully climbed down the ladder and shut off the lights before slipping into his own bed on the bottom bunk. His heart was warm from the night he spent with his siblings, and it relieved him to know that Dot was going to be okay. He looked up at the bunk bed above him, wondering what they would do tomorrow. He then remembered the magazine he and Wakko found, and how it had mentioned that there would be a Bieber concert that day. A smirk spread across his face, a mischievous glint in his eye.

They were gonna have some fun tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments :) Goodnight everybody!


	3. Autograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wakko breaks into Disney Studios to get a gift for Yakko and Dot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for this one-shot, I was inspired by an Animaniacs fic that I read recently, which played with the idea that being stuck in the elevator during “Ups and Downs” for so long would’ve messed with Wakko’s hypoglycemia. I thought it was brilliant and well written. It’s called ‘Elevator Emergency’ and I would highly recommend checking it out on FFN after reading this chapter!

_ Autograph _

_“How Hypoglycemia Can Hamper Your Hammerspace.”_

Wakko glared at the pamphlet in his hands, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration as he did his best to decipher the medical information in front of him, his body sinking further into the red chair in Hello Nurse’s office. The pretty woman had left to go grab something, leaving him to look at the boring pamphlet instead of her.

He looked out the window, deep in thought. The past two days had been…not so faboo, to say the least.

It had started like any other normal day—Dr. Scratchansniff was escorting Wakko to see Mr. Plotz, as the middle Warner had eaten another one of the CEO’s possessions: a conference table. But what could he say? He was hungry.

Then the elevator stopped working. The two were trapped for at least ten hours before two maintenance workers ended up getting stuck with them as well. Apparently, they had been in there for almost seventeen hours. Wakko had passed out after about fifteen, though he didn’t really remember it.

Dot had filled him in once he woke up. According to her, when Wakko didn’t return to the tower for lunch or dinner, Yakko had practically turned the studio upside-down looking for him. Then there was something about her, Yakko, a pink helmet, the Batmobile, Yakko almost getting arrested, and a hole in Plotz’s house. He was still groggy when she told the story so he didn’t catch all of it, but he knew at the very least that Plotz was angrier with their older brother than usual.

The two had eventually figured out that he and Scratchansniff were trapped in an elevator and rushed back to the studio with emergency services in tow. It was there that they had found Wakko passed out in the p-sychiatrist’s arms, prompting them to rush him to the emergency room.

And so, Wakko woke up in the hospital. The doctors said he would be fine as long as he took it easy for the next couple of days and got his blood sugar up—they said he was hypoglycemic, so being stuck in an elevator for several hours without food had taken a toll on his glucose levels (whatever those were). Then they dumped plenty of pamphlets and info packets about the condition onto him and Yakko.

So, there was a reason the middle Warner always felt the need to “pack away the snacks”—who knew?

When they had gotten back home, Yakko had made it his mission to read every pamphlet and packet he could get his hands on, and did additional research until three in the morning when Dot yelled at him to go to bed. Wakko, on the other hand, grabbed something to eat, skimmed a couple of articles, and took a nap. He loved his brother, but it really seemed like he was overreacting a bit. So he had to watch his blood sugar and make sure he didn’t go too long without eating—that’s all he needed to know. Not what happened in his cells or atoms or whatever other science-y stuff was involved.

Apparently though, since he was a toon, there was more to it than they had initially thought. Yakko had found an article that stated low glucose levels could temporarily cut off access to one’s hammerspace.

Which was why Wakko was sitting in Hello Nurse’s office, trying to understand in greater detail why he couldn’t pull an anvil out from behind him and why his gag bag had become a normal burlap sack. He had come alone, as it was an 8 AM appointment, and he already felt bad that his siblings had turned over every stone in the lot and beyond looking for him. On top of that, Yakko had taken it upon himself to do research for his brother rather than sleeping.

Wakko frowned. He really shouldn’t have eaten that conference table. He’d have to find a way to make it up to his siblings.

“Um, Wakko?”

The middle Warner looked up to see Hello Nurse standing in front of him, two books in her hands, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. _The woman of the year…_

“Hellooooo nurse!”

“Yes, you said that when you walked in,” she said, patting his head. “Now, I’ve found two books for you. One is about how hypoglycemia affects your hammerspace, and the other has exercises on how to regain access to it.”

Wakko took the books and, out of habit, tried to shove them into the space behind him, only for them to fall on the carpet with a thud. He looked back up at the nurse. “How long until I get my hammerspace back?”

“It could take anywhere from two days to a week,” she replied as he turned and picked up the books. “It varies from toon to toon.” She led him to the door and opened it for him, adding, “Now you go home and be a good little boy. And don’t do anything that will make Yakko touch the Batmobile again.”

“No promises!” he replied with his typical goofy smile. “Goodbyeeee, nurse!” He hopped to her eye-level, planted a big wet kiss on her cheek, and left the building.

**XXX**

After several attempts to climb the water tower ladder with an armful of books, Wakko had finally made it inside and was now sitting at the kitchen table pouring over one that Hello Nurse had given him. He had spent about ten minutes on _The Science Behind Hypoglycemia and the Hammerspace_ before closing it; all the chemistry and medical terminology flew over his head. _This_ one was a lot more interesting—even if he wasn’t a bookworm in the slightest, Wakko had always loved and excelled at Toon Theory (though he preferred actually performing it over reading about it).

As he read though, he found his thoughts drifting elsewhere again. Yakko and Dot must’ve been so worried about him yesterday and the night before. Especially Yakko—he always got worked up when he felt like he couldn’t protect his siblings. Wakko knew it was part of being an older brother, as he often felt the same way when Dot found herself in a pinch. He knew there was more stress for Yakko though. He was the oldest and had two younger siblings to worry about rather than just one.

He sighed, closed the book, and headed into their shared bedroom where he found Dot and Yakko both still asleep on the bottom bunk, Yakko wrapping a protective arm around her. _Probably fell asleep after Dot dragged him into bed at three in the morning_ , he thought. 

Stifling a small laugh, he turned his attention to the nightstand where three pink concert tickets laid. _Princess Ariel Live_. He picked them up and frowned; he and his siblings were supposed to go the night he got trapped in the elevator. Dot had really wanted to see her sing, while he and Yakko had been looking forward to seeing…other things. Well, more so Yakko. Wakko liked girls, but his brother took it to an entirely new level.

He looked at his sleeping siblings, then the ticket again—Disney Studios wasn’t far away, right? He wouldn’t be able to get them an entire concert, but maybe at least an autograph since they’d been through so much the past couple of days…maybe an autographed picture of her in that seashell bra for Yakko…

Wakko nodded and smiled to himself, his mind made up as he quietly climbed the ladder and reached under his pillow to grab his gag bag. The little sack looked so sad and empty without a swirling vortex of hammerspace inside, but at least it could serve as a regular pouch.

He crept back down the ladder and into the kitchen before opening the sack. There wasn’t much—just a lone sock that probably found its way in when he stuffed it under his pillow the night before.

_Okay, Wakko, priorities…snacks._

He opened the fridge and restrained himself from dumping everything he saw into the bag; Yakko and Dot needed to eat too, and there was no way he could carry thirty pounds of food down the tower’s ladder, let alone all the way to Disney.

He settled on a quart of orange juice, half of a birthday cake, a stick of butter, a banana, and a fork. Normally he’d eat a lot more, but he wouldn’t be gone for very long. Tying his now full pouch, he paused and looked at the kitchen table.

_Other priority…don’t give Yakko a heart attack._

He grabbed a pen and a loose piece of paper, scribbled something down, and snuck out of the tower.

**XXX**

_Should’ve remembered money for a cab._

Wakko shrugged at his own forgetfulness, dragging his beloved bag along the sidewalk. Sure, Disney wasn’t too far away if you had a car, but the walk was pretty long and boring. Once he had realized he didn’t have his wallet, he tried to pull of Dot’s cute routine to get a free ride—it didn’t work.

Oh well. At least it wasn’t too hot out yet and he was in broad daylight. Not that anyone would dare jump him—according to the public, he still had his hammerspace and packed the hardest mallet swing out of the Warner trio.

He should’ve packed more orange juice, though. The walk was tiring.

After a few more agonizing minutes, he reached the gates of Disney studios, an arch with the Mickey Mouse emblem standing tall above them. Ahead of him stood a line of Disney stars showing IDs to the guard at the gate before walking in.

 _Well, that’s not an option_ , he thought. He inspected the line for a few minutes before his eyes landed on two ugly girls, one with red hair, the other with brown, both in big poofy dresses that made their butts rival that of the Hip Hippos’.

He had an idea; it was one that would probably make Yakko impressed yet facepalm at the same time, but it was an idea.

He silently crept along the shadows near the gate, his black fur helping to hide him in the darkness. His heart thudded in his chest as he silently counted down the moments until the two were close enough…he’d have to be quick…

_Three…two…one…_

With one fluid movement, he stashed himself under the brunette’s puke-yellow dress, the layers of frills concealing him from wandering eyes. The woman didn’t even seem to notice; she was too wrapped up in her argument with the redhead.

Wakko breathed a barely audible sigh of relief. Now he just had to make sure this lady didn’t notice a kid was right underneath her butt and he’d be at the Princess Lot in no time.

It was hard at first to keep in time with the woman’s steps, as she kept stopping every ten feet to yell at the other girl who was apparently her sister. If Wakko wasn’t unbelievably grateful for his siblings before, then he definitely was now. Even when Yakko and Dot were bickering at their worst, they weren’t even close to half as bad as these two.

Eventually, Wakko grew accustomed to the woman’s crazy steps and avoided bumping into her or getting stepped on. If he squinted, he could see through the ugly fabric that they had just passed Snow White’s set. He was definitely getting closer to—

“Drizella, you have a tail!”

_Wait—_

Before he could even finish the thought, a piercing shriek came from directly above him as a high heel kicked him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. _“Oof!”_ He rolled out from under the dress and onto the pavement, clutching his bag as tightly as he could.

“Ew, it’s an ugly cat kid!” the shrieking woman yelled.

“I’m not a cat!” Wakko spat, still laying on the ground. He pushed himself to his feet and looked around as a group of Disney toons began gathering, all eyes locked on him. He swallowed. An audience was not what he needed right now.

“Hey, it’s that weird Ringo-sounding kid from the water tower at Warner Bros!” the redhead yelled, pointing a finger at him. “How’d you even get in here?!”

“I don’t care how he got in here! He was looking up my dress!” the brunette screeched. She pointed to a few men in the crowd that had gathered. “Guards, get this trespassing Peeping Tom out of here!”

Wakko didn’t need any other cues. He leapt over the crowd, thanking whatever worldly being decided that hypoglycemia wouldn’t cut off his entire toon arsenal, and sped further into the lot before coming to a screeching halt when he slammed into something.

He looked up to see a short, dark-skinned man with angry eyes, a black beard, and a sword in his hand. A guard from Aladdin. And nineteen others were beginning to surround the young Warner.

“Alright, kid,” the guard said, pointing his sword at Wakko. “Don’t put up a fight and I won’t kick your ass too hard.”

Part of him _really_ wanted to take him up on that offer since the weapon was less than an inch from his nose, but Wakko was a Warner: a damn good actor and a brave one at that.

He swallowed his fear and smiled as he reached into his bag, pulling out the stick of butter and the sock. “Do you know what a buttersock is?” he asked cheerfully.

“A butter wha—oof!” The guard fell to the ground when Wakko smacked him across the head with the sock, the stick of butter shoved inside it.

“Faboo!” Wakko exclaimed. It actually worked! He turned to the rest of the guards as he swung the sock over his head, their mouths dropped in shock. “Who else wants to play with my buttersock?”

**XXX**

Yakko sat up abruptly in bed. “Something tells me a perfect ‘Goodnight everybody!’ just happened and I wasn’t around to see it.”

“YAKKO, WAKKO LEFT A NOTE ON THE TABLE AND NOW HE’S ON TV!” Dot’s voice yelled from the living room. “And before you make some comment about us always being on TV, he’s on the news, not our show.”

Darn. Dot was getting good at predicting his wit. Now what the heck was Wakko doing on the news? He walked into the living room and sat on the couch next to his sister and listened to the reporter intently.

_“Wakko Warner of Warner Bros. Studio, star of Steven Spielberg’s ‘Animaniacs’, has been spotted at Disney Studios this morning. Eyewitnesses state that he was first seen hiding underneath Drizella Tremaine’s dress. After being confronted by a group of guards, Warner whacked each and every one unconscious with a sock full of butter before going into hiding somewhere on the studio lot. Security is still searching for him. Interestingly enough, two days ago Wakko’s older brother and co-star, Yakko Warner, hijacked Warner Bros. Studio’s beloved Batmobile and crashed into CEO Thaddeus Plotz’s house with their sister, Dot Warner, coming along for the ride. It looks like the water tower trio is just as zany to the max in real life as they are on their show. Back to you with the weather, George.”_

Yakko facepalmed. Plotz was gonna murder them both—in fact, he was willing to bet he was having the writing team come up with ideas on how to run the show with just Dot. Either way, Wakko was just in the hospital yesterday morning. Why was he—

“Here’s the note,” Dot said, interrupting his thoughts and shoving it near his face. He took it, immediately recognizing Wakko’s chicken scratch.

_Hi Yakko and Dottie (haha),_

_I felt bad that you guys had to go looking for me the other day, so I am going to Disney to get you a present. Don’t worry, I brought snacks so I won’t die._

_Love, Wakko_

“He’s lucky he just got out of the hospital or I would kill him for the Dottie thing,” Dot grumbled, sinking further into the couch.

Yakko sighed, playing with the note in his hands. Sneaking around under girls’ dresses, breaking into Disney, beating guards with a buttersock…Wakko really had a talent for amusing him and giving him a migraine at the same time.

Regardless, the kid still didn’t have hammerspace and that sock wasn’t going to last very long.

“C’mon, sister sib,” Yakko said, getting up from the couch. “We should go fetch our brother before he lands himself in the hospital again. Or puts the entire Disney studio there.”

“We can’t,” Dot said simply, looking up at him. “They’ve got LAPD below and on top of the tower! I think they’re afraid we’re gonna go help Wakko tear Disney apart after—”

“The Batmobile incident, I know,” Yakko finished, rolling his eyes. He sat back down and added, “Why didn’t you wake me up as soon as you found out about all this?”

“You need your beauty sleep or you’re gonna have wrinkles by the time you’re twenty!” Dot exclaimed, poking his face.

“I wonder why,” he said sarcastically, looking back down at Wakko’s note. Well, at least he knew where his brother was this time. Every fiber of his being wanted to go to Disney and hunt him down, but he knew breaking out of the tower would not be a good idea; every police officer out there probably had a toon-proof net waiting for him and Dot. He didn’t want her getting dragged into this too, especially after the stunt they had pulled the other day.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves, more for Dot’s sake than his own. Wakko was at Disney, the company that wouldn’t ever risk their squeaky-clean reputation…right? Then again, their little “renaissance” was giving them enough money to make anything “disappear” …

He shook his head. No, Wakko would be fine. _But what if he didn’t bring enough snacks and passes out again?_

He groaned at himself, dragging a hand down his face.

Being the oldest was hard.

**XXX**

Wakko leaned against the hard bark of the tree he was perched in, finishing the last of his orange juice and cake. Disney security was still looking for him—he had whacked at least 30 guards across the head with the buttersock. Sadly, the butter had melted in the heat of the Californian sun, which was why the middle Warner had gone into hiding.

It wasn’t all bad; Disney was starting to run out of toon guards. Security was comprised mostly of humans who would never be able to catch him unless they ganged up, and it seemed like the toons they had left weren’t a huge threat. He was pretty sure he had seen Goofy wandering around with a shield.

On the downside, he had seen paparazzi and reporters wandering around too. _Hopefully Yakko and Plotzy haven’t turned on the news yet_ , he thought. He shifted his gaze further down the lot, now clearly able to see the blues and aquamarines that covered Ariel’s set, knowing that his gift for his siblings was just a quick jaunt away.

Bag slung over his shoulder, he made his way back down the tree and hugged the shadows cast by various buildings and sets on the lot. He was getting closer and closer to Ariel’s and he had to be quick, as that cake he had eaten would only last so long. Only a few more yards—

“There he is!”

Wakko spun around to see a group of photographers close behind him, shouting and snapping pictures. _Shoot,_ he thought. _Now the guards are gonna—_

“I’M GONNA HYUCK YOU UP!”

The Warner spun around again to see the remainder of the Aladdin guards charging toward him, all led by Goofy holding a shield and a wiffle ball bat in his hands.

Wakko reached into his bag and pulled out the banana before chucking it at Goofy’s feet. The lanky toon fell backward onto the ground, arms and legs flailing as he bellowed the signature Goofy scream. Wakko chuckled and attempted to run from the guards again, but one picked him up by his ears and held him away at arm’s length.

Desperate, he pulled out the only thing left in his gag bag—a fork—and pointed it at the guard. “You stay away from me,” he warned. “I’m not afraid to use it!”

The man let out a big laugh. “You’re a big talker for a little pipsqueak. Leave the yackin’ to your brother. I’m turnin’ you—”

“Wait! Stop!”

Wakko turned his attention to the voice, which came from a redheaded girl with determined blue eyes and a sparkling silver dress that shined in the sun as she ran towards them. _Woman of 1989…_

“Helloooooo nurse!” he yelled, still in the man’s grasp.

“Princess Ariel,” the guard said with a slight bow. “We were just taking—”

“Is that a dinglehopper?” Ariel asked excitedly.

Wakko was confused for a moment, then looked at the fork and smiled as he nodded, tongue flopping. “I’ll trade ya for two autographed pictures.”

“Deal!” she exclaimed giddily, snatching the fork from his hand. “I can add it to my collection!” She turned her attention to the guard. “Put him down. He’s my guest.”

“But—”

She ignored him. “It’s Wakko, right? I’m Ariel. Eric and I love your show. Would you like to have lunch with us?”

Wakko smiled and nodded. _Ariel is faboo._

**XXX**

_Sitting through these commercials is almost worse than sitting through that Mario Brothers movie._

Yakko drummed his fingers against the arm of the couch impatiently. He and Dot had been watching the news all morning for updates on Wakko, and they only new piece of information they had was that their brother had taken out the majority of the guards with that stupid sock and tripped a surprisingly aggressive Goofy with a banana.

He knew Dot was getting worried despite her bad attempts to tell him that she was fine. He was incredibly perceptive of his siblings and could see plain as day that she was just as glued to the TV as him. Maybe—

“I’m home!”

“Wakko!” Dot screamed. Before Yakko could even process anything, Dot was in front of their open door, squeezing their brother in a hug comparable to Elmyra’s. He took a moment to realize it: Wakko was okay. Tired and being squeezed to death by his little sister, but okay. The talk about breaking into a multimillion-dollar studio could wait.

He leapt over the back of the couch and sprinted to his little siblings, picking them up and wrapping them in a tight hug.

 _Okay_ , he thought. _Maybe being the oldest isn’t that bad after all._

**XXX**

After tucking Dot in for the night, Yakko wandered into the kitchen and to the fridge where he poured himself a glass of Lactaid and sat down at the table next to Wakko, who, surprisingly, wasn’t distracted and had his nose deep in a book about toon theory. The older sibling felt bad about breaking his concentration, but he needed to talk to him.

“Alright, brother sib,” Yakko said casually. “I know you touched on it in your note this morning, but do you mind telling me in full detail why you smacked down thirty guards and Goofy today to get Ariel’s autograph?”

Wakko frowned, closing his book. “I know you two had really wanted to go to that concert the night I got trapped in the elevator and Dot told me how worried you were when you were looking for me. I wanted to do something to make it up to you guys.”

Yakko couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Wakko ended up in the hospital and he felt bad for _them_?

“Wakko,” he began softly. “The concert was the last thing on my mind or Dot’s once I realized that you were missing. And of course I was worried, I’m your big brother! How could I—”

“I know, I know,” Wakko said quietly. “But you got in trouble with Plotzy because you were looking for me.”

Yakko snickered. “I don’t think he’s too thrilled with either of us after today. Look, Wak. None of what happened with the elevator was your fault…ehhhh okay, maybe you shouldn’t have eaten that conference room table,” he joked. “But it’s not like you knew that the elevator would get stuck for seventeen hours, you would pass out, or that you had hypoglycemia. Heck, I barely knew what it was before yesterday!”

“That’s the other thing I feel bad about,” Wakko said, resting his chin in his hands. “You were doing all the reading on that stuff and you aren’t even the one who’s sick!”

“Again, I’m your big brother,” Yakko said, taking a sip of his fake milk. “I wouldn’t have let you stay up all night reading even if you had wanted to. You needed to take it easy and rest.” He sighed, then smiled. “Look, sib, I appreciate you going out of your way to do something for me and Dot, but ehhh…how about next time just a ‘thank you’?”

Wakko nodded happily, tongue hanging out of his mouth once again. “Okay!”

“Good,” he replied, patting his brother’s cap before getting up and walking over to the pantry. “Now how about we eat all of Dot’s snacks while you tell me all about your little adventure? I wanna hear about the whole ‘dress’ fiasco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again everyone for all of you for reading and reviewing. It’s always appreciated and encouraged! Goodnight everybody, and I’ll see you in the next one-shot!


	4. Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Wakko goes missing, Yakko and Dot go on a rescue mission to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you all again so much for your comments. They encourage me so much to keep on writing!  
> So, this one-shot is sort of a prequel to the last chapter. When I started writing the running gag about Yakko and the Batmobile, I knew there was a story to tell in there somewhere. It also takes place at the same time as “Ups and Downs” for the most part, and answers the question of what Yakko and Dot were up to the entire time Wakko was gone.  
> Hope you enjoy!

_ Incident _

**9:12 AM**

“Wow, this Branimaniacs stuff is nasty,” Yakko muttered to himself. He put his spoon back down into the cereal and picked up the box, studying the picture of the two squirrels on the front. Poor Slappy and Skippy didn’t even look like they wanted to be there. How did the old squirrel get talked into advertising such a terrible product, anyway?

His musings were interrupted by the sound of a soft thud hitting the fridge. Peering around the box, he spotted Wakko half asleep, his capped head resting against the appliance’s handle.

The older sibling chuckled, a warm smile on his face. “Up before noon, Wak? Did someone offer you candy?”

“Yes, actually,” Wakko said sleepily as he opened the refrigerator door. He grabbed five blueberry muffins and took a seat at the kitchen table next to his brother. “Scratchy said I could have some if I met with him at 9:15.”

“Well, hopefully candy’ll wake you up a little bit,” Yakko replied, watching him devour the muffins. Jeez, this kid could eat a lot—he was basically swallowing them whole, wrapper and all.

With a ridiculously loud belch and all of the muffins gone, Wakko stood up from the table. “Okay, I guess I should get going. I’ll see you and Dottie later.”

“Okay. Have fun driving Scratchy insane,” Yakko said, absentmindedly studying the contents of his disgusting breakfast. “And try to be back by six. We have tickets to go see Princess Ariel.” _Helloooo nurse indeed._

“I know, I know,” Wakko replied, already at the water tower door. “Bye!” He closed it behind him quickly. The muffins and hope for candy had helped put a little pep in his step.

After his brother left, Yakko looked back down at his bowl of soggy bran flakes, then towards the bedroom, then at the bran flakes again. “Hey Dot, come try this cereal! It says it’ll make you cute!”

**12:30 PM**

“Ehhh…maybe we should just order a pizza, Dot. This recipe looks like it’s over my head.” _And my budget_ , Yakko added silently as he looked over the page of the cookbook his sister had chosen. One of the first ingredients was caviar—that was definitely not going to happen.

“Aw, okay,” Dot replied, throwing off her pink apron. “Can we order a birthday cake too?” she asked excitedly.

“Whose birthday is it?”

“I dunno, it’s gotta be someone’s somewhere.”

Yakko shrugged. Why not? It was way less expensive than caviar either way. “Sure, makes sense to me. Wakko’ll like it too!”

Speaking of which, where was the other third of their happy little trio? He had been gone for over three hours and Yakko knew there was no way Scratchy could survive an appointment with any of the Warners for that long.

“Maybe he’s hanging out with Buster and Babs?” Dot offered. Apparently Yakko hadn’t been doing a very good job of concealing his thoughts.

“Could be,” he replied thoughtfully. He shook his head. “You’re probably right. Now how about that pizza?”

**6:43 PM**

_Okay, something is definitely wrong,_ Yakko thought, pacing back and forth across the bedroom floor. Wakko usually ran a little late, but this was something else entirely. And he never blew off him or Dot regardless of what they were doing; he always loved spending time with them. But what concerned Yakko the most was that while he and Dot were cleaning, they found their brother’s gag bag hanging out from underneath his pillow. Wakko never left it behind unless he thought he wouldn’t be gone for very long. And if he had really been out with Buster and Babs, he definitely would’ve come back for it.

Even Dot didn’t seem totally convinced anymore. She kept going out on the tower’s landing and surveying the lot every five minutes.

Deciding to join her, he walked out of the bedroom and the tower. “Alright, sister sib,” he said, trying to sound relaxed. There was no need to worry Dot, though he had a strong feeling that she could detect his concern. “Why don’t we go ask around and see if anyone’s seen our dear brother?”

**7:30 PM**

“Sorry, Yak, but we haven’t seen him anywhere,” Buster said.

Dot’s heart sank. She had really hoped her brother would be with the two rabbits. She and Yakko had been asking everyone in sight and they were running out of options.

Wakko might’ve had a special talent for annoying her, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t worried sick about her second older brother’s disappearance. Sure, he could defend himself with a mallet no problem, but what if he needed to cute his way out of something or outwit someone trying to grab him? He wasn’t _totally_ helpless in those departments, but they were definitely her and Yakko’s strengths, respectively.

She looked up at her other brother as he continued to talk to Buster and Babs. He was wearing his ‘I-am-panicking-on-the-inside-but-I’m-the-oldest-so-I-have-to-pretend-I’m-not-worried’ face. It fooled everyone but her and Wakko…okay, occasionally Wakko fell for it if he was preoccupied. But rarely Dot. She really wished he would stop doing it sometimes. He was a kid too; he was allowed to panic every once in a while.

Then again, if he was a kid and he managed to keep it together at least for the most part, then maybe things weren’t so bad…right?

Babs voice interrupted her thoughts. “We’ll keep an eye out for him and tell ya if we see anything.”

“Thanks, guys. Say hi to Bugs for us,” Yakko replied. The two bunnies nodded and wandered off in the other direction, leaving the siblings alone. “C’mon, sis,” he said, taking her hand. “We’ll find him eventually.”

**11:46 PM**

_C’mon, Dot, pull yourself together,_ she scolded herself mentally. _Crying isn’t cute. And Yakko’s already worried about Wakko. He doesn’t need to deal with you acting like a baby._

Dot was still holding her brother’s hand. She had assumed their middle sibling’s disappearance had put him into protective mode, as once the sun had set, he told her not to let go. In the past four hours, they had searched nearly every inch of the lot, including whatever buildings and sets Yakko could lockpick his way into. He had apparently asked Brain to show him a few tricks between seasons. She couldn’t blame him—once you were locked in a water tower for 60 years, you needed to make sure it would never happen again.

She wiped a teary eye with her free hand, doing her best to keep up with her brother’s long strides. The combination of exhaustion and not finding their sibling was really starting to get to her. What if they couldn’t find him? What would she and Yakko do? Who would cheer her up with the goofy charm that only Wakko had? Give her hugs when she and Yakko had their little squabbles? Tell her about the ridiculous pranks and ideas that only he could come up with?

“Are you crying?”

_Shoot._

“Oh Dot,” Yakko said softly, his voice almost a whisper. He stopped walking and turned around to face her, getting down on one knee so they were at eye-level. “We’re gonna find him,” he reassured her, wiping away one of her tears with a gloved thumb.

“I hope so,” she said quietly, trying to steady her voice. She chastised herself for breaking down like this. Tears weren’t gonna find Wakko or help Yakko. Why did she have to start crying _now?_

As if he could sense her inner turmoil, he opened his arms. “Come here.”

It took all of Dot’s willpower to not sprint the foot of space between them before she buried her face in his chest, letting the warmth of the hug surround her.

“I’m not ever gonna stop searching until I find him,” he said, masking the worry in his voice. No matter how much he wanted to panic, he was not going to do it when Dot needed him the most. “I promise.” He gently pried her off his chest and smiled. “Just try to think positive, okay? Just think, this time tomorrow morning you and Wakko will be bickering over who gets the last waffle in the freezer.”

Dot gave a sniffly nod and a tiny smile. “Okay.”

“Good,” he replied. “Now c’mon. I’ll give you a piggyback ride. Just one of my steps is equal to three of yours.”

**12:02 AM**

Yakko sighed, still carrying Dot on his back. He was pretty sure they were going in circles—they were about to pass the studio p-sychiatry office again. It had been one of the first places they had checked, but by the time they had begun the search, the building was already locked. Yakko hadn’t been able to pick it open.

But now there was something different on the steps of the building—in the dim moonlight, Yakko could make out the curvy outline of a familiar, beautiful blonde closing the door behind her.

“Helloooo nurse!” Yakko called out, waving a hand. Sure, he wasn’t really in the mood to _completely_ ogle at her for once, but hopefully the greeting would bring some sense of normalcy to him and his sister.

“Hi Yakko, hi Dot,” Hello Nurse replied, walking down the steps to meet them. “What are you kids doing out so late? It’s past midnight. You should be in bed.”

“We’re looking for Wakko,” Dot answered over Yakko’s shoulder.

“Any chance you’ve seen him?” Yakko asked. “He’s been gone since this morning.”

The nurse shook her head. “Not since his appointment with Dr. Scratchansniff. In fact, he’s been gone since then too. I was just finishing up some paperwork he didn’t get a chance to do today.”

Yakko frowned. Scratchy was gone too? Now that was weird. “What was the appointment for, anyway? Usually he books all of our p-sychiatry appointments together.”

“They went to see Mr. Plotz,” she replied. “Your brother ate a table.” Pulling her car keys out of her purse, she added, “Look, I’m going to Dr. Scratchansniff’s to see if he’s home. Maybe Wakko followed him. But you cute little kids should go back to the tower and get some sleep. We’ll find your brother.” Patting them both on the head, she sauntered away in the moonlight.

Rather than watching her walk away like he always did, Yakko’s attention was pointed toward the Batman set.

Dot waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay?”

“I have an idea.”

**12:21 AM**

As he pressed the bent paperclip into the lock, Yakko wondered what other 14-year-olds were doing right now. He guessed sleeping, staying up playing video games and doing homework, or, for some of the more eager ones, partying.

But here he was, breaking into a soundstage on the Warner Bros. lot to steal a classic car with his nine-year-old sister so they could go bug their millionaire boss who _might_ have an idea where their nutjob table-eating brother was.

If that wasn’t considered an exciting night, he didn’t know what would be.

“Yakko, you still haven’t told me why we’re here again,” Dot said impatiently. He had placed her on the ground so he could pick the lock more easily. “We’ve already searched this place.”

“We’re here for a different reason, sister sibling,” he replied. With a final twist of the paper clip, the lock gave in, allowing him to open the door with ease. He took his sister’s hand and led her inside.

Flicking on the light, Yakko could see various Batman props, backdrops, costumes, and cameras strewn throughout the set. They stepped around or over it all—it wasn’t what Yakko had come here for. As they moved further into the set, the item he needed came into vision—the Batmobile.

“Alright, Dot, here’s the plan,” he said as they reached the deep black vehicle. “We’re gonna borrow the Batmobile, drive to Plotzy’s, ask him if he knows where Wakko or Scratchansniff are, and hope to Weed Memlo that he does because we’re running out of leads.”

“This is crazy, Yakko!” Dot exclaimed. “You don’t even know how to drive!”

“The other option is walking there, sis, and I’m not risking you getting picked up by some late-night creep on the streets,” he replied. “Besides, I’ve driven a golf cart before. How different could it be?”

“Incredibly,” she mumbled, hopping into the passenger seat of the vehicle.

Yakko hit the button to open the garage door before getting in the driver’s seat. “Also, you need these,” he said. He whipped a booster seat and bright pink helmet out of his hammerspace, putting the seat under her butt and the helmet on her head.

“Why don’t you have to wear them?” Dot asked stubbornly.

“I’m not half the size of Mickey Rooney like you,” he said with a smirk, buckling her and himself in. “Now let’s go see Plotz and find Wakko!” He started the car, threw it in gear, and slammed on the gas pedal, only for the vehicle to go flying backward into a camera stand. 

“Heh, oops. Put it in reverse.”

**12:45 AM**

“Ehhh…Dot,” Yakko began. “Any chance there’s directions to Plotz’s place in this thing?”

He took a turn down another street, probably a little too wide and a little too fast, but he honestly thought he wasn’t doing too terrible at this driving thing. Sure, he missed a few stoplights, often forgot his blinker, hit curbs, and Dot complained about nausea every time he had to stop or slow down, but what did she expect? He was new to this. Plus, they were both worried about Wakko.

“When you get your license, I’m getting you a ‘Caution Bad Driver’ sign,” Dot muttered. “And I remember the address. Wakko and I TP’d his house last month.”

“And _I_ wasn’t invited?”

“You were busy drooling over Minerva,” Dot replied. “Now take a left—” there was a series of loud honks “— _after_ the stop sign, Yakko.”

He was in a huge car with his high beams on. They should’ve seen his car coming…probably.

“Okay, _maybe_ I’m a little distracted by Wakko being missing,” he admitted. “But once we find him, I know my driving will be a lot better.” _Along with my blood pressure._

“That’s assuming we even make it to Plotz’s alive,” Dot answered.

Yakko couldn’t even be annoyed by her teasing. If anything, he was amused. His natural talent for being a smartass was starting to rub off on her. “Well, regardless of my driving skills, we’re not gonna be making it anywhere if you keep spouting one-liners instead of directions.”

“On the right, we’re about to pass—”

Not realizing how fast they were moving, Yakko whipped the wheel all the way to the right and aimed for the driveway, only for the car to go careening across Plotz’s lawn, tearing up the fresh green grass. He slammed on the brake in a desperate attempt to stop before they reached the quickly approaching building, but it was too late. The Batmobile went flying into Plotz’s mansion, putting a hole in his living room wall.

As the dust settled, Yakko coughed and looked down—he had reached over and covered Dot with his body at the last second without even thinking about it. “You okay, Dot?”

She smiled and looked up at him, taking off her helmet. “I’m okay.”

Yakko could’ve fainted with relief; there wasn’t even a scratch on her. “Good,” he replied, sitting up and looking around. _Yeesh. This is one of our biggest messes to date._ Half of the Batmobile was in the CEO’s living room, while the other half was still in the destroyed yard. Dust, rubble, and furniture were all scattered throughout what was left of the living room. “Well, sib, we made it here alive. Not so sure about the house and the Batmobile though.”

“WHAT IN BLAZES HAPPENED TO MY HOUSE?!”

The two Warners looked to the direction of the voice to see a small, fat, balding man in a nightcap and striped pajamas enter the living room from inside the house. As soon as he locked eyes with Yakko, his expression changed from shock to rage, his face burning so red the Warner thought the man’s nightcap would burst into flames.

“Ehhh…hey Plotzy!” he said with a nervous smile and wave. “Like the new window we just made ya? It doubles as a door. Say, is there any chance you know where—”

“I’M CALLING THE POLICE AND MY LAWYER!” he exploded. “You two are FIRED!” He stormed over to the car and grabbed the siblings by their ears before taking a closer look at the car. “You stole the BATMOBILE?!”

“Actually, we were borrowing it,” Dot said simply.

Plotz bellowed in rage before tossing the two on the now broken couch, grabbing the landline on the wall, and dialing a few numbers.

“Look at that, he’s finally learned how to use a phone,” Yakko mumbled to his sister.

“Hello? Yes, this is Thaddeus Plotz. Two little pests just stole studio property and put a hole through my house. I want the police and my lawyer down here. NOW!” He slammed the phone down on the receiver and turned back to the Warners. “You two are—”

“Look, Plotz,” Yakko began. “We just wanted to ask—”

“You be quiet, Warner,” he snapped, jabbing a finger at him. “Not even _your_ motormouth can talk you out of this one. Once the authorities get here, you’re gonna get it. And I’ll make sure you never work in this town again!”

“I’m sure they’ll take us at Disney. I’m cute enough,” Dot said happily.

Plotz was seething. “You two—”

“Officer Tom Wachowski reporting for duty.”

The three turned their heads toward the gaping hole in the wall to see a young policeman with a badge. Behind him was a firefighter, a paramedic, and a man in a suit, presumably Plotz’s lawyer. In the driveway sat a firetruck and an ambulance in addition to the police car.

“These two right here, officer,” Plotz said, pointing to the Warners. “They took the Batmobile from the Warner Bros. lot and did THIS!” he screeched, gesturing to the destroyed living room. “And HE’S fourteen! He doesn’t even have a license!”

“Yakko Warner,” Wachowski said, pulling him up from the couch and firmly putting his wrists to his back. “You’re under arrest for breaking and entering, destruction of property, illegally operating a motor vehicle, and committing grand theft auto using the Batmobile.” He clicked the handcuffs into place. “You have the right to remain silent.”

“You can have it back, I’m not gonna use it,” Yakko said.

Dot jumped to the officer’s feet, wearing her best cute sad face. “Please, PLEASE, don’t take my brother away!” she wailed. “He feeds us, clothes, us, and teaches us how to be annoying and funny at the same time! He’s the only one I have!”

“No he’s not, she’s lying!” Plotz yelled. “I want the Warners sued and off the lot!” Looking around, he added, “Speaking of, where’s the other one?”

“That what we’ve been trying to ask you,” Yakko spat. “We haven’t seen him since this morning and Hello Nurse said he and Scratchy had an appointment with you.”

Plotz gave a dismissing wave. “They got stuck in the elevator this morning. I don’t know where they are now. Maintenance gave an indication that they got out.”

Yakko’s stomach flipped. Plotz didn’t know much more than they did, and the little new info they had obtained was basically useless. And now Yakko was about to be arrested for trying to find his brother. How was he supposed to find Wakko from a jail cell? And who would watch over Dot?

“Mr. Plotz, before you try to press charges against Mr. Warner, there are a few things I think you should consider.”

Everyone turned their attention to the lawyer, who was approaching the center of the room with a few legal documents in hand.

“Uh, of course, Jacob. Go ahead,” Plotz said.

The man cleared his throat, peering at the paper. “Firstly, there seems to be a severe typo in the children’s contracts. ‘Warner Bros.’ is meant to refer to the studio, while ‘Warner Brothers’ is meant to refer to Yakko, Wakko, and Dot collectively. But there is a line in section 4, subsection 52 that states that ‘Warner Bros. are not permitted to sue Warner Brothers over any mental or physical harm to person or property so long as _Animaniacs_ and any subsequent spinoffs are on the air.’ I think you meant for that to be the other way around?”

Plotz gulped. “Yes.”

“Furthermore,” the lawyer continued. “Yakko Warner is a minor. According to this document from the state of California, the studio has legal guardianship over the Warner Brothers until each turns 18, Yakko turns 18 and would like custody of his siblings, or in the case that they are ageless toons, the Warner Brothers would like to move out on their own accord. That being said, any legal trouble the children get into is also a reflection and the responsibility of the Warner Bros. studio.” He stuffed the papers back in his briefcase. “In other words, pressing charges against Mr. Warner would be like pressing charges against yourself. Also, their contracts last for the life of the show, so no, you cannot fire them.”

“Yay! We’re employed!” Dot exclaimed.

“And saved by a typo,” Yakko added, slipping out of the still locked handcuffs and handing them to the officer. “Might wanna invest in a pair of toon proofs, Tommy. We can slip outta these when the plot demands it.”

Plotz laughed nervously, clasping his hands together and looking at the policeman. “Well, officer, I suppose I actually won’t be needing your assistance tonight. Sorry for the false—”

“Now hold on a second,” Wachowski interrupted. He grabbed Yakko by the waist of his khakis with one hand and held him up in the air. “Even if you drop all charges involving studio property and your house, the kid’s still fourteen. Getting behind the wheel was still illegal.”

_Shoot. Think fast, Yakko, the sibs need you._ “Ehhh…how about this,” he began. “You put a couple points on my future driver’s license and let me go tonight, and Plotzy’ll do some CEO magic and get you a movie at Paramount with Sonic the Hedgehog sometime in the next 30 years.”

“WHAT?!”

“It’s a deal!” Wachowski said, putting Yakko down and shaking his hand. “I’m gonna be a star! Goodnight everybody!” He left through the hole in the wall, got into his cruiser, and drove off.

Plotz looked back at Yakko and Dot, seething again. “Don’t think you got away with this, brats. There’s still a gaping hole in my—”

“—Head, we know,” Yakko finished, crossing his arms. “Look, TP, you can take the repair money for the car and house out of my paycheck. Can we go now? We’ve got a brother to find.”

“I actually wanted to ask about that,” the firefighter said. Yakko turned to face him—he had almost forgotten about him and the paramedic. “Is there any chance the ‘indication’ you received came from a skinny southern guy and his coworker Big Ed?”

“I don’t know,” Plotz grumbled. “I never pay any attention to the maintenance people. Why?”

The firefighter sighed. “I’ve had to rescue them a couple times from that elevator. Yakko, Dot, your brother might not be as lost as you think.”

**1:56 AM**

Yakko sat in the back of Plotz’s expensive car with his sister by his side, on the way back to the studio. Plotz was driving, still in his pajamas, grumbling about stupid kids and maintenance workers and all the money he spent on that couch.

The oldest Warner was clinging on to hope that they were about to finally find Wakko and Dr. Scratchansniff. Apparently the elevator was in the studio’s headquarters, one of the buildings that Yakko couldn’t pick his way into because of the electronic lock.

Yakko almost felt bad for the doctor. If he couldn’t get through a simple appointment with Wakko without tearing his hair out, how would he survive being locked in a room with him for almost 17 hours? Of course, it was kind of funny to imagine the doctor’s reactions, but still. No one usually had to put up with the Warners for more than a couple of hours beside themselves.

And poor Wakko. The kid must’ve been starving. Yakko planned to stay up cooking for the rest of the night.

“Once we find that gluttonous brother of yours, I don’t want to see ANY of you for MONTHS,” Plotz growled as they approached the studio. 

“You got it, TP,” Yakko replied, giving a thumbs up. “We’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”

Plotz sounded like he was about to have an aneurysm as they pulled up to the studio, the firetruck and ambulance close behind.

Once the car stopped, Yakko grabbed Dot’s hand and swung the door open, running past Ralph’s little guard shack and toward the studio’s biggest building. They reached it before the rest of the group, Plotz struggling to keep up with the firefighter and the paramedic.

The two Warners waited extremely impatiently as the CEO reached the building, sliding his ID and punching in a passcode. As soon as the doors slid open the two were inside, sprinting for the elevator.

“Look! There’s one of those jaws of life things in front of the door!” Dot exclaimed, pointing to the yellow and black tool on the ground.

A pounding sound came from the elevator. _“Is that Dot?!”_ a German accent screamed from inside. _“HELP! VE NEED AN AMBULANCE!”_

“Scratchansniff!” Yakko exclaimed. If the doctor was still in there, then…

_Please tell me that ambulance isn’t for Wakko._

He whipped his mallet out, ready to break the door down himself, but the firefighter quickly stopped him.

“Let me use the machine they left out,” he said sternly. “If you swing your mallet wrong, you could get them stuck for even longer.” He pushed the jaws of life between the two doors, then cranked the handle. Slowly but surely, the doors started to open. Yakko watched as two maintenance workers came barreling out, a panicked Dr. Scratchansniff right behind with Wakko in his arms…sleeping?

He quickly looked over the three humans—they were all a little shaken up, but fine. Yakko’s knees went weak. _Then that must mean—_

“Yakko, ve need to get your brother to the hospital,” Scratchansniff said quickly. “Somethings is very, very, wrong.”

Yakko only froze in panic for a moment before kicking himself into gear. “We have an ambulance outside. Everyone _move, move, MOVE!”_ Almost everyone else jumped a little at his outburst, even Dot and Plotz, but the paramedic was on top of it. He had already moved the ambulance and gotten a stretcher ready as soon as he’d heard Dr. Scratchansniff’s first cry for help. Quickly and carefully, he took the little toon from the doctor’s arms and placed him on the stretcher.

“Yakko, Dot, you can ride in the back with me. I’ve got a driver,” the paramedic said. The two siblings were right behind him as he moved their brother into the ambulance and got inside.

“I vill meet you at the hospital!” Scratchansniff yelled before the doors closed.

As the ambulance started and the paramedic began his work, Yakko wrapped an arm around his sister and took his brother’s limp hand, hoping that nothing else would go wrong that night.

**2:35 AM**

Yakko and Dot sat in the waiting room, nervously awaiting the doctor’s verdict on Wakko. The older of the two drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair impatiently, his thoughts moving a million miles per second, all of them centered around two questions: _What’s wrong with Wakko? How could I have let this happen?_

“Do you think he’s gonna be okay?” Dot asked through a yawn. Yakko looked up at the clock on the wall, realizing how late it truly was. He couldn’t remember the last time the two had stayed up this long.

“C’mere,” he said, reaching over and picking her up. He placed her in his lap so that they were facing the same direction and she could lean back against his chest. “I hope so Dot,” he continued, gently resting his chin on the top of her head. “To be honest, I don’t even know what happened. But Wakko’s tough. If anyone can beat whatever he’s going through, it’s him.”

Dot shifted her position just slightly so she could look back at him. “You’re not blaming yourself for this, are you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

_Oh, sister sibling. You know me so well._

“Ehhh…you’re already worried about Wakko. No need to add me to the list too. I’ll be okay,” he said. He shifted her back into her previous position, gently rubbing the base of her ears, a trick he had learned after many nights of comforting her after nightmares. “How about I tell you the story?”

“Yakko…I know what you’re doing.”

“Once upon a time, a brave night married a beautiful princess and they had two…” he didn’t even have to finish the sentence. He smiled; Dot was already fast asleep.

He sighed softly and looked up at the ceiling, returning to his previous thoughts. Dot was right about blaming himself, but how could he not? He should’ve been out searching for Wakko the moment he had felt something was wrong rather than waiting. Maybe they would’ve found Hello Nurse earlier, then they could’ve checked the main building before—

“Yakko?”

He looked to the direction of the voice to see Scratchansniff standing in front of him and Dot, a sports bag in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. Wiping the worry off his face, he said, “Hey, Scratchy! Going to the gym? Not sure what’s open at this hour, but you could probably find something if you look hard enough.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow at the supposed change in his demeanor, but didn’t mention it. “I vent to my house for some blankets and the gas station for snackies for you kidses. And me. I have not eaten since nine.”

Yakko was genuinely grateful and forced a small smile as the p-sychiatrist took a seat next to him. “Thanks, doc.”

He nodded, studying the oldest Warner. “Yakko, how are you doing?”

“Doing what?”

Scratchansniff sighed. “Yakko, you are a very convincing actor. But I knows you are using the jokes to cover your feelings. You can’t tell me you aren’t vorried about Vakko right now.”

“Okay, if I can’t, then I won’t,” he said with a defiant smirk, turning his head away. He could see the p-sychiatrist smack a palm to his giant head in his peripheral vision, mumbling about “kidses driving him crazy.” Scratchy wasn’t wrong though—Yakko used humor for everything. To express his thoughts, make others laugh, show his siblings love, and more. Right now, he was using it as a shield. But why focus on him? Wakko was the one in the ER. All Yakko wanted to know was what was going on with his baby brother.

“Yakko Warner?”

The two looked up to see an older brunette doctor with glasses and a clipboard, looking at Yakko. “That’s me. How’s Wakko?”

“Your brother is stable,” she replied, looking at her clipboard. “But we ran some tests. It looks like he has hypoglycemia.”

Yakko’s mind was in a frenzy. _Hypowhat?_

“It’s a condition involving low blood sugar levels,” she continued. “If an individual with it does not have enough glucose in their system—from not eating for a long time, for example—it can lead to confusion, dizziness, fainting, or if it’s bad enough, a coma.” Seeing the panic on his face, she quickly added, “He’s not in a coma. Just sleeping. We’ve connected him to an IV to help get his blood sugar up.”

He could barely get the words out. “When can we go see him?”

“It’ll be a little bit,” she replied. “We’re still doing a few more tests to make sure everything is okay.” Unlatching her clipboard, she pulled out a stapled packet and held it out to him. “This will give you more information on the condition. I’ll let you know as soon as you can see him.”

Yakko carefully took the packet, not wanting to stir too much and wake Dot, and thanked the doctor before she walked away. Scratchansniff was silent next to him as he thumbed through the packet with shaky hands, trying to steady his uneven breathing. _Neuroglycopenic effects…paresthesia…impaired judgment…nausea…hunger…ataxia…delirium…_

He dropped the packet at his feet and turned his head away so Scratchansniff couldn’t see his face, uncharacteristically silent.

“Yakko,” the man said softly. “I know it is a lot to take in. But you don’t have to process it all by yourself.”

Yakko didn’t turn to look at him. Part of him didn’t want to know the details or picture them, but he had to ask. “What exactly happened to Wakko in the elevator?”

“He vas fine until one hour before you found us,” Scratchansniff began. “Always making the jokes and songs. And then he became very dizzy and sveaty and was complaining about being hungry. Tventy minutes later he passed out.”

The oldest sibling looked down at the floor, now trying to maintain at least a neutral expression in front of their shrink. He could imagine it clearly—Wakko lying on the elevator floor, confused and hungry, his body rapidly shutting down without him having an idea why.

And where had Yakko been? Getting arrested. He shook his head—he could’ve stopped this entire thing from happening. Again, why didn’t he start looking sooner? Or at the very least, send Wakko off with some snacks? Why had he never before questioned Wakko’s ravenous appetite as more than something that was just part of who he was as a toon?

He looked at his sister, who was still sound asleep in his lap. And Dot. Poor Dot. She had been caught in the middle of all this too. 

“Do you think I’m doing a bad job taking care of them, Scratchy?” he asked quietly.

Scratchansniff sat in stunned silence for a moment, then said, “Vhat makes you ask that, Yakko?”

“There are just…lots of things I should’ve done differently tonight,” he replied, gently pulling Dot closer to him. “And earlier today. Heck, I’ve had years to get Wakko’s appetite checked out, and I never did. Maybe if I had, we wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“Perhaps not,” Scratchy replied. “But that does not mean you are doing a bad job with your brother and sister.” As Yakko looked up at him, he continued. “No matter what you could have done today or in the past, it vould not change the fact that Vakko is hypoglycemic. And you are a very perceptive little toon, but no one can catch everything. And no one else thought anything of his appetite, ya?”

“I guess not,” Yakko replied. “But what about tonight? I crashed a car into Plotz’s and almost got arrested.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Plotz told me about that,” Scratchansniff said thoughtfully. “Vell, it may not have been the smartest vay to get to his house, but you vere vorried about your sibling. Yakko, you took more action than most parents do. And you are still a child yourself.”

The tight feeling of guilt in Yakko’s chest loosened a bit. Scratchy was making a lot of sense tonight…maybe he wasn’t so bad at this whole p-sychiatry thing after all. That or Yakko really needed to sleep.

“So no, I do not think you are doing a bad job vith Vakko and Dot,” he finished. “Though I do vish you vould all tone it down vith the jokes and gaggies.”

“Aw, doc,” Yakko said with a smirk, clapping him on the back. “That’s never going to happen!”

Scratchansniff sighed. Well, at least his patient was starting to act more like his normal…zany…self. “A man can dream, I suppose,” he said, picking up the bag of snacks on the ground. “Have a snacky, Yakko. You need to eat.”

**4:29 AM**

“Psst. Yakko, wake up!”

The oldest sibling groaned as he came to his sense, feeling the gentle tug of a tiny hand on his ear. He opened his eyes to see that he and Dot were so close they were almost touching noses, one of Scratchy’s blankets draped over them. He looked over to the seat next to him, but the p-sychiatrist wasn’t there.

Dot let go of his ear and sat up. “He went to the bathroom,” she explained. “Anyway, the doctor lady came back and said we can visit Wakko. He’s in Room 310.”

Yakko sighed in relief, placing the blanket and his sister in the other chair so he could stand. “C’mon sis,” he said excitedly, taking her hand. “Let’s go see how our sib is doing.”

It didn’t take long to find the room—Yakko half ran down the hallway, basically carrying Dot towards the end. Once they found the room, he cracked the door open and smiled at what he saw.

Wakko was sitting up in bed watching the sunrise out the window, the pale pinks and oranges of the sky filling the room. He still had an IV in his arm and didn’t look nearly as energetic as he usually did, but Yakko was relieved to see that the event had done zero damage to the boy’s spirit. His tongue hung out as he smiled at the sun, unfazed by the fact that he was in the hospital.

Yakko leaned against the door frame, a smile still on his face. “Up before noon again, Wak? You’re on a roll.”

The middle child turned around and gasped, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Yakko! Dot!”

The two raced to the bed and enveloped the final piece of their trio in a tight hug, doing their best to still be careful of his IV.

“We’re so glad you’re okay,” Yakko said, burying his face in his brother’s cap. He had never been so happy in his life to be holding his siblings—finally, after a long, agonizing day of searching and worrying, they were all together.

“Yeah, you really scared us!” Dot added as they broke up the hug. “Especially Yakko. He put a hole in Plotz’s house with the Batmobile trying to find you!”

“Hey,” Yakko said, playfully poking her in the side. “Let’s not forget who turned on the waterworks.”

“You after you read that packet the doctor lady gave you?” she asked innocently.

“Pssh, you dreamt that part, sis.”

“Did not!”

“I’m glad you guys are here,” Wakko interrupted. “I missed you. And I’m hungry. And tired. And I need to use the potty. What’s hypoglycemia? The nurse tried to explain it but I wasn’t paying attention. To her talking, anyway. And what happened to Plotzy’s?”

“Ehh…valid questions, sib,” Yakko replied, rubbing the back of his head. He put an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Say, how about I go find Scratchy so he can visit and a hello nurse to help you?”

“Scratchy’s here too?” Wakko asked excitedly. “Oh, goody. I’ve got loads more jokes to tell him.”

“Tell him the one about Max again, he likes it,” he replied with a smirk as he reached the door. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes. Don’t do anything stupid without me helping.”

“Okay!” the other two said with a wave. Wakko turned back to his sister. “So, what did Yakko do with the Batmobile?”

Dot smiled, making herself comfortable on the edge of the bed. “Boy, do I have a story to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment :) Goodnight everybody!


	5. Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dot isn't thrilled that her brothers dragged her across the country for the weekend, but Wakko knows how to show her the bright side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I had a few more one-shots that I had written over the summer, so I thought I'd post one a day until the reboot. Thank you for all your comments so far!

_ Fireflies _

_Boys. Can’t a girl get any sleep around here?_

Dot rolled over for what felt like the millionth time that night before sandwiching her head between the hard mattress and lumpy pillow. The makeshift bunk bed creaked and groaned with every movement, which made her miss her pillow-covered bed in the water tower even more.

The trip to New England had been Wakko’s brilliant idea…indirectly. He had seen a Dunkin’ Donuts ad for their new “strawberry shortcake croissant donut” and had absolutely _insisted_ they go to the nearest DD so he could have an entire box. At first Dot had been fine with it, as the nearest restaurant wasn’t too far away from the Warner lot.

And then Yakko got involved. He had told Wakko that there was a wonderful place where there were three Dunkin’ on every street, a Ben and Jerry’s plant relatively nearby, endless amounts of Cabot cheese and maple syrup, _and_ they could make an entire weekend trip out of it. Of course, their bottomless sibling agreed and Dot was outnumbered, so here they were in an old log cabin in the woods about a half-mile away from “Lake Champlain-y.”

Why they had chosen this specific part of Vermont, Dot had no idea. But she _did_ have the sneaking suspicion that Yakko’s idea of getting away for an entire weekend had something to do with Plotz being angry about the hole her oldest brother had put in his office wall with a bocce ball a few days ago.

And now, even in their sleep, her brothers seemed to be on a mission to annoy her. Yakko kept singing his nations of the world song between soft snores, while every ten seconds Wakko would either bark or kick the bedpost in his slumber. At home, Dot normally fell asleep first, so their little outbursts wouldn’t bother her. But being tossed into an entirely new place and an extremely uncomfortable bed had thrown off this routine and left her as the only awake Warner at two in the morning.

Deciding that further attempts to sleep would be futile, she slipped out from underneath her pink blanket and climbed down the bunk bed's ladder as she did her best to keep her steps light. None of the Warners, including herself, reacted well to being woken up abruptly, and Wakko had a nasty habit of going into a “mallet first, ask questions later” mode when he was half asleep. She knew he would never do it to her on purpose, but she still wasn’t going to risk her cute little nose getting smacked.

Once she reached the floor, her eyes had adjusted more to the darkness. The moon cast small splashes of light onto the wooden floor here and there, which was only covered by an old wood stove, a table, and a few rocking chairs on the other side of the room. The uneven floor groaned with every step as she made her way toward the doorway. It was a wonder that none of them had gotten splinters yet…or had had an encounter with a rusty nail. They’d all probably need tetanus boosters once they got home.

Dot cracked the cabin door open just a bit, allowing the crisp, fresh air to gently brush her face, the scent of pine lingering in the air. She opened the door a smidge further and stepped out into the night before quietly closing it behind her.

Through the canopy of evergreens and maples above her, she could make out a clear night sky, the moon and stars bringing much-needed light to the forest floor. Feeling the dew-covered grass beneath her feet, she crept to the other side of the cabin where an old metal ladder leaned up against one of the walls. She took it and moved it to a more acceptable angle before silently making her way up the metal rungs and onto the roof.

After finding a suitable spot, she brushed away any stray pine needles and sat down, silently hoping that their cabin wasn’t so old that the roof would break underneath her tiny weight. The wooden surface creaked a little, but not enough to cause alarm, so she decided not to worry and looked up at the stars instead.

Sure, it was true that she hadn’t wanted to spend a weekend across the country in pursuit of a donut. And sure, it was true that she didn’t appreciate her brothers keeping her up all night.

But she had to admit, it was also true that the view was beautiful.

When it came to clear skies and fresh air, Burbank simply couldn’t compete. Very rarely in her life had she been able to see so many stars with such clarity. The night sky expanded endlessly past the trees that surrounded their little cabin, with even more stars and constellations than she would ever see in a lifetime. Yakko had been right—it really was a big, big universe.

“You can see the wishing star from here, you know.”

Her musing interrupted, Dot looked down to see a little red hat and pair of eyes peeking over the edge of the roof. “Did I wake you guys up?” she asked as her brother finished climbing.

“Just me,” Wakko replied, sitting down next to her. “I think when you got up here a little sawdust fell from the ceiling and into my mouth.”

Dot gave a small smirk. “If you kept your mouth closed the whole night rather than barking, you wouldn’t have run into that problem.”

His cheeks pinked a little as he scratched the back of his head. “I thought I stopped doing that. Yakko hasn’t brought it up in a long time.”

“Oh, trust me, he doesn’t have any room to talk,” she replied, playfully rolling her eyes. “Did you know that every time he sleep-sings and misses a country in Yakko’s World, he starts all over from the beginning? I think I’ve heard him rattle off the entire western hemisphere at least 40 times tonight.”

Wakko chuckled. “It could be worse. At least he’s not singing the _Pinky and the Brain_ theme on loop.”

“Wakko, if I get that stuck in my head for another 20 years, I’m gonna explode.”

He laughed again—despite his sister’s glare—before reaching into his turtleneck and pulling out his gag bag. Dot watched with a raised eyebrow as he shoved his arm into it, rummaging around before eventually pulling out a brown paper bag with pink and orange writing.

“Want a strawberry shortcake croissant donut?” he asked, playfully waving the bag in front of her. “I saved one for you.”

She initially wanted to reject—if she wanted to get any sleep that night, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to stuff her face with something so sugary. Then again, with Yakko’s sleep-singing, she probably wouldn’t be sleeping anyways…and the bag _did_ smell good…

“Okay, just this once,” she relented, snatching the bag from him. She took the pastry out of its paper container, appreciating the pink and white icing that coated the top. It was still just a stupid donut, though. There was no way it was actually as good as Wakko had claimed earlier that day. Wakko could eat a doorknob and claim it as a five-star meal.

She took a bite and was immediately proven wrong. A flaky croissant, the sweet, strawberry icing, a buttercream filling…the thing was _heavenly_.

“I knew you’d like it,” he said, his usual goofy grin stuck on his face. He leaned back on his hands and met her look with a smirk as she continued to eat the donut. “See, lil sis? Yakko and I were right about comin’ out here. The donuts were worth it.”

Dot swallowed what was currently in her mouth and wiped a stray crumb from her face. “It’s good, but not _that_ good,” she replied with narrowed eyes. “I still wouldn’t throw away my entire weekend for a donut, like you did.”

Wakko shrugged. “Alright.” He looked up at the sky as Dot continued to eat, his brow furrowed in concentration. As she finished her donut, the youngest Warner studied her brother with curiosity—the sky was pretty, sure, but what about it could possibly make him ponder so hard?

“I think it’s Polaris tonight,” he finally said.

“What?”

“The wishing star,” he said simply. “I think it’s Polaris.” He pointed to the sky, but to which specific star, Dot had no idea. There were so many, and at the different angles they were sitting at, it could’ve easily been one out of the fifty in the general area he was pointing to.

Dot shook her head, brushing the crumbs off her hands and lap. “I have no idea which one you’re talking about, Wakko.”

Wakko sighed and scooted closer to her, putting his head next to hers to make certain she could see what he was pointing at. “See? It’s that bright one, right there,” he said, pointing to the sky again. “It’s part of the Little Dipper.”

She followed his finger with her eyes and could see it clearly now; Polaris was right there, a star at the very end of the constellation’s handle. She looked up at him and crossed her arms. “Since when are you interested in astronomy?”

He shrugged again. “Our movie inspired me. Or is Yakko the only one who’s allowed to sing about space?” he teased.

“Alright, alright,” she replied, rolling her eyes a little. “So, what are you gonna wish for? More strawberry shortcake croissant donuts?”

He seemed thoughtful for a moment, placing a hand to his chin and letting his tongue peek out. “I could…or, I could wish that my little sister would have a good time this weekend and stop moping.”

Dot punched him in the arm. “I am _not_ moping,” she said, the words dripping with stubbornness. “I just don’t appreciate having my cutie sleep interrupted by Lassie and Randy Rogel’s audition song.” Noticing his goofy grin was back, she added, “What?”

“Ya need to work on your punches,” he said. “It was like getting tapped with a pencil by Pinky.”

“Wanna see me mallet you like Slappy?”

“Oh, c’mon, sis, I was just teasing,” he replied with another smile, wrapping an arm around her. “Plus, I would totally win in a mallet match. Let’s just sit here, okay?”

Dot couldn’t even argue with the mallet match comment. From the moment of their creation, Wakko had always possessed a natural talent for physical comedy. His _hammerspace_ had its own hammerspace from day one. His physical strength was nothing to sneeze at, either—she’d seen him toss a car out of his gag bag as if it were an empty cardboard box. Of course, he’d never use it on her or Yakko, but that didn’t take away from its impressiveness.

Rather than continuing their little sibling squabble, she decided to take him up on the offer of just sitting there and snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He was considerably warmer than her, which she silently appreciated—sitting out on the roof in the middle of the night became unsurprisingly chilly after a while. As she made herself comfortable, he started talking about the stars again, pointing to various constellations and previous wishing stars he had chosen in the past.

It wasn’t often that she and Wakko spent time together one-on-one like this…of course, they usually spent every waking moment together, but as a trio with Yakko. Even in the rare moments when the three of them were broken up, it was usually her and Yakko together in the tower while Wakko wandered around the lot, or on even rarer occasions, she would get some quiet time at home while her brothers went to the park. What they did there, she had no idea. Probably stared at every female within a mile radius of them. Again, _boys_. But either way, it’d be a lie to say she wasn’t currently enjoying her brother’s presence.

“And I used that one to wish for a reboot,” he said, pulling her out of her thoughts. He pointed to another speck in the sky. “I think we’re gonna get it, sis. Jess said the executives have been kicking the idea around.”

Dot smiled. A reboot would be nice, so long as Mr. Spielberg was overseeing it, of course. They had all witnessed what an ill-intentioned cash grab could do to a series—most of the reboots that had come out during the past few years had been subpar at best. “You know Yakko will be up the network’s butt if that gets greenlit.”

“Oh, I know,” Wakko said with a grin. “Don’t worry. We can sneak into headquarters and eavesdrop on the meetings.”

She giggled, earning an even bigger smile from her brother. The two went back to looking at the sky for a few more moments before something caught her eye in her peripheral vision. Turning her head just slightly, she could make out little blinking lights deep in the forest a few yards away from their cabin. “What’s that?” she asked.

Wakko looked at the area she was pointing to and sprang to his feet. “Aliens,” he muttered, whipping his mallet out of his hammerspace. 

Normally, Dot would’ve scoffed at such a farfetched first guess, but the last time they spent the weekend in a log cabin they actually _did_ get abducted by aliens. She couldn’t really blame him for thinking it.

“You stay here,” he whispered before hopping off the roof and onto the grass below.

“Are you kidding?!” she hissed from the top of the cabin. “I’m not letting you fight an alien by yourself!”

“Who’s gonna force Yakko to keep his wits if I go missing?” he countered. 

Okay, he had a point. Despite Yakko being the oldest and (usually) the most level-headed, he didn’t exactly react well to being left alone. Or to his siblings disappearing out of nowhere.

“I’ll be fine, sis. Stop being such a worrywart.” Ignoring his little sister’s disgruntled huff, he disappeared into the darkness of the forest below her.

Dot waited on the rooftop for what felt like hours, clutching her own mallet like her life depended on it. Her ears were perked up higher than normal, carefully listening and absorbing every sound in the forest that surrounded her. She held her breath as her eyes darted from tree to tree, rock to rock. So far, there had been nothing out of the ordinary, but she couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

She eventually decided that Wakko was being more of a nutjob than usual. Who saw creepy lights in the woods and went _towards_ them, anyway? She should’ve followed him. Heck, she probably still could…it may have felt like she had been sitting there for hours, but it probably had only been a few minutes. Then again, there was the whole Yakko thing…if he woke up to see both of his siblings had vanished, the entirety of northern Vermont would have a crisis on their hands. Maybe it’d be best if she woke him up now and—

“Look what I—OW!”

Heart still thudding in her chest and mallet still in her grasp, Dot spun around to see her immediate older brother splayed out on the grass below, eyes closed and tongue sticking out as stars circled his head. “Wakko!” she exclaimed. “Are you okay? Why did you sneak up on me?!”

“You really do mallet better than you punch,” he mumbled woozily. Rubbing his capped head, he sat up slowly. “And I didn’t sneak up on you, _Dottie_. I used the ladder. It’s not my fault you got all jumpy.”

“Don’t call me that, Wakko. And you could’ve warned me,” she mumbled. “Again, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sis,” he replied as he stood up. Grabbing the rungs of the metal ladder again, he scaled it easily and was quickly back on the roof sitting next to her. “Jeez, you left a bump on my head that’s gonna last for weeks.”

“It’s okay, it’ll give your two brain cells more room to rattle around in,” she deadpanned, crossing her arms. “Now what was so important that you had to almost give me a heart attack?”

He pulled a clear jar out of his hammerspace and held it out in front of her. “This!”

Dot gazed at the jar, which was full of the little blinking lights they had seen in the woods earlier. Upon closer inspection and with the help of the moonlight, she could make out little wings, legs, and eyes attached to each light.

“Fireflies,” Wakko explained. “We don’t get them a lot in Burbank, so I figured you’d wanna see.”

Dot wasn’t the biggest insect person, but other than regular flies and mosquitos, she didn’t mind them. She carefully took the jar from his hands, watching the little bulbs dart around the inside of their clear cage, often interacting in pairs. “If you ignore their creepy little legs, they’re kinda cute,” she said with a small smile.

He nodded before pulling out two more jars, this time empty. “C’mon. We can catch some more.” He hopped down from the roof on the front side of the cabin, Dot following close behind. Immediately she could see why he had chosen this side; there were twice as many fireflies as what she initially saw in the forest. Wakko handed her one of the empty jars. “Put the full one away, sis—you’re gonna have a hard time if you’ve only got one hand.” As Dot did so, he turned his attention back to the little darting lights, his eyes focused on his targets as he assumed a pouncing position on all fours, a jar in one hand.

“It’s easy,” he whispered. “You just stay really still so they don’t notice you, and then—” he pounced at the swarm of bugs, swooping his jar through the air before quickly covering the opening with a gloved hand, “—Faboo! You’ve caught them.”

He had been right—Dot could see four or five fireflies floating around inside his container, blinking erratically. “Wouldn’t it be easier to do with a butterfly net, though?” she asked.

“Sure, sure,” he replied. “But this way is more fun. C’mon, try it!”

Shrugging, she assumed the ready-to-pounce position he had shown her before, a jar in her right hand. Once the bugs seemed to have calmed down from Wakko’s previous ambush, she leapt at them, mimicking his movements and covering the jar with her palm once she landed. She looked down to see two fireflies in her possession, buzzing around and crawling on the glass. He had been right again—this _was_ more fun.

“Nice job!” Wakko exclaimed encouragingly. “There’s still a lot around the outside of the house. Let’s keep going.”

After about half an hour and many more pounces, the two were sitting on the roof again, all three jars alive with little lights and buzzing. Dot sat with two of the containers in her lap, while Wakko held the other.

“Well, that was fun,” she said, smiling down at her jar. Who knew chasing little bugs around with her brother could be enjoyable?

Wakko nodded, transfixed with his own catches, his tongue hanging out of his mouth once again. “Wanna go inside and show Yakko?”

“No need, I’m already here.”

The two turned to see their older brother standing on the ladder, his hands gently holding the edge of the roof. He had an eyebrow raised at them, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “My sibs spent time together without me? _And_ the city of Burlington hasn’t fallen amidst a war between them? Color me impressed…not literally, Wakko.” 

A soft ‘poo’ was heard as the middle Warner slipped his Sharpie back into his hammerspace.

“Wakko found fireflies,” Dot said excitedly, holding up the second jar as Yakko climbed onto the roof and sat between them.

“Better hold on to them,” he joked, taking the jar his sister had offered. “Fox’ll cancel them after a single season.” It got a laugh from Wakko, but his sister raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, c’mon, Dot, it was funny!” he exclaimed, putting an arm around her. “Or would you rather I go back to the ‘Are you gonna finish that _croissant_?’ jokes from this morning?”

“I can’t believe Rob taught you how to do that stupid voice,” she muttered. Despite her ‘annoyed’ tone, she scooched closer to him, nuzzling his shoulder as he put his other arm around Wakko. The three of them together, looking at the fireflies and stars…even though they had unintentionally robbed her of sleep, the presence of her two older brothers made the night worth it. Wakko was leaned up against the oldest as well, studying his own jar intently.

“We should bring some home to Scratchy,” he said thoughtfully.

“Nah, we brighten up his day enough already,” Yakko replied with a smirk, examining the little dots of light in his hand. “We should probably let them go soon, though, Wak. There are no air holes in that thing and pretty soon the animal rights hippies from UVM will come crawling out of the woods screaming about abuse.” His siblings shuddered in horror.

“Oh, alright,” Wakko said reluctantly. He looked over to his sister. “Want to do the countdown, Dot?”

She nodded, and the three placed their jars down, their hands on their lids. “Three…two…one!”

She twisted the lid and the outer rim came loose, leaving only the circular covering on top. She pried it off with her thumb, exposing the fireflies to the cool, nighttime air. Her brothers had performed the same actions in sync with her. One by one, the little balls of light flew out of their temporary homes and into the open sky, flittering in circles before rising higher and higher to seemingly join the stars. They watched in silence for a while, transfixed by both the constant and blinking lights that assisted the moon in its quest to give the world a little light while the sun was away.

Yakko was the first to break the silence. “Well sibs,” he said, stretching his arms above him. “I don’t know about you, but I think we should get some Dunkin’ Donuts again once the sun’s up. I like that they actually spell my name right, unlike Starbucks.”

“Can I get the espresso?” Dot asked. She stood up and rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t sleep.” There wasn’t any irritation in her tone this time—just sleepiness.

“And can we get donuts again too?” Wakko asked, eyes shining bright with excitement.

The oldest shrugged. “As long as you both share with me. Also, ehhh…make the coffee a small one, Dot. That stuff is addictive.”

“But you drink it all the time,” Wakko pointed out.

“I’m an old man.”

“You’re fourteen.”

Yakko waved his hand. “Details, details,” he said, leading his siblings to the ladder. 

Dot followed the two down, lacking the energy to safely jump off the roof like she had done earlier. Soon they were back inside and all laying in their respective beds, Yakko on the bottom, Dot in the middle, and Wakko on top. Though the sun would probably begin to peek over the horizon relatively soon, they still went through their nightly routine.

“Goodnight, Yakko. Goodnight, Wakko.”

“Goodnight, Dot. Goodnight, Yakko.”

“Goodnight everybody!”

Dot could hear her brothers snickering above and below her. She rolled her eyes, but this time with a smile on her face as she was quickly pulled into the embrace of a deep sleep. As the last of her consciousness faded away, she realized one thing…Wakko’s wish, once again, had come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it. For this story, I wanted to focus a bit more on the bond between Wakko and Dot, since I feel like that isn’t something that people often focus on in Animaniacs fics. Most of the time it’s focused on all three of them, Yakko and Wakko, or Yakko and Dot because of specific scenes in Wakko’s Wish (lol irony). I enjoy them all equally, but I thought I’d shed a little light on the least talked about option.  
> Anyway, as usual, comments are always appreciated! I'm so hyped for the reboot. All of the little teasers we've seen look really good!


	6. Karen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the beginning of the pandemic. Karens are everywhere, toilet paper is nowhere to be found, and the Warners have escaped quarantine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments everyone! This next one-shot is supposed to take place around March 2020. It might not be totally canon-compliant after the reboot comes out, but I still thought I'd share it. Enjoy!

_ Karen _

“Yakko, I’m bored.”

_Me too, sib._

Yakko looked up from his book to see his brother sitting on the coffee table in front of him, his tongue hanging out with an expecting look on his face.

“When are we gonna get out of quarantine?” Wakko asked.

The older sibling sighed, sprawling himself out on the couch and tossing the book onto the floor. To be quite honest, he had no idea. With a huge virus spreading across the world, the studio executives had locked them in the tower at least two weeks ago. Dr. Scratchansniff delivered necessities to them once a week (something that only the receiving party was particularly excited about). Mr. Plotz had claimed that it was for “their own protection”, but Yakko knew that was a load of baloney bigger than Baloney himself. Research had already proven that toons couldn’t catch the virus—it had obviously been an excuse to just keep him and his siblings out of everyone’s hair (or lack thereof) for a while.

At first, it hadn’t bothered Yakko _too_ much—sure, being locked up was annoying, but the lot was basically empty by the time Plotz had made the decision. There wasn’t much fun to be had if they didn’t have anyone to make their ‘special friend’.

But as time went on, he realized more and more that his brother was right. Sitting in the tower was getting very, very, _very_ , boring.

“Hopefully soon,” he finally replied, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m running out of books to read, movies to watch, and ways to mildly annoy Dot.”

“I can help you with that last one,” Wakko offered cheerfully. “Yesterday I shifted all of her stuff in the tower five inches to the left, hid all of her makeup, and used the label maker to put ‘Dottie’ stickers all over her pillow.”

“I said _mildly_ , Wak,” he replied, trying to conceal a smirk as he picked his book back up. “The stuff you’ve been doing is how you get your head bitten off by your little sister so…ehhh…I think I’ll pass.”

Wakko’s ears drooped in disappointment for a brief moment, only to perk back up a second later. “What if we sneak out of the tower and go to the store? I won’t even complain about how long Dot takes in the clothing section!”

_He must be getting desperate_ , the older sibling thought. Wakko didn’t even _like_ clothes shopping, especially with their sister (which was ninety-nine percent of the time). The last time Scratchansniff took them to the mall, Wakko devoured the entire freezer aisle after she only spent ten minutes looking at dresses. Yakko was still helping to pay that bill off.

“Please, please, please, please, PLEASE!” Wakko whined, jumping onto him and shaking his shoulders. “I’m going to go INSANE if I spend another minute inside! It’s like when they locked us up in the ‘30s all over again!”

“Wakko, you already are insane. All three of us are. It’s kinda our thing,” he replied with a raised eyebrow, prying his baby brother off of him.

“Oh. Right, sorry.”

“But I do agree that this place is starting to feel like a prison,” Yakko continued, sitting up and stretching. “The lock they put on the tower is pretty stubborn. I tried picking it a few times.”

Wakko’s face suddenly lit up. “I have an idea! I’ll be right back.” Before Yakko could ask any questions, he had run out of the room, passing Dot who approached the oldest sibling with a less than pleased look on her face.

“What’s with the scowl, sis?” Yakko asked playfully. “Finally realize that I may or may not have accidentally ruined a few of your bobby pins trying to break out of our own home?”

“What?!”

“Nothing,” he replied innocently with a toothy grin.

Dot rolled her eyes and held up an empty roll of toilet paper. “We’re out. When is Scratchy coming again to deliver groceries?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then frowned. “Not for another three days.” Okay, now they _definitely_ needed to get out. Living with bored Wakko was one thing. Living with Mr. Potty-Emergency-Who-Regularly-Digests-Titanium was another. “I’ll call Plotz and see if—”

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

The two Warners quickly turned around to see their brother with a giant steel mallet in his hands, pounding away at the lock fastened to the water tower door. To their surprise, it was actually starting to come loose—along with the door it was connected to.

“Wakko, wait—”

Too late. With one final _BANG!_ the lock broke and the door went flying off its hinges, over the tower railing, and loudly crashed into the lot below.

The three siblings stepped out onto the tower’s landing and looked down to see a Warner Bros. shield-shaped crater in the earth. “I don’t think Plotzy’s gonna be too happy with me,” Wakko said, scratching his head.

Yakko shrugged. “He should’ve put a pickable lock on the door. C’mon, sibs. To Wal-Mart for toilet paper!”

**XXX**

“Well, we made it,” Yakko said proudly, staring up at the super Wal-Mart. “And we only got kicked out of three different taxis this time!”

The Warners stood in the middle of the parking lot their last cab driver had unceremoniously dumped them in before speeding away. Despite it being midday, it wasn’t terribly busy—only a third of the lot was full and customers were trickling in and out of the building at a slow rate, all wearing masks.

“Should we be wearing masks too?” Wakko asked.

“Nah,” Yakko replied. “Lots of research places have found that toons can’t catch or spread coron—”

“AND DON’T COME BACK WITHOUT A MASK!”

The Warners looked up to see a raging Donald Duck being booted out of the store by the manager, yelling what seemed to be incoherent profanities before and after he hit the pavement.

“On the other hand, the news doesn’t bother reporting important stuff like that,” Yakko said thoughtfully. “We need the toilet paper, sibs. Put these on.” Reaching into his hammerspace, he produced three blue masks and held them out. His siblings groaned, but each took one as he put on his own.

“What’s next, are they gonna force us to put gloves on over our gloves?” Dot muttered as they walked into the store.

“Careful, Dot,” he replied. “You might give universities across the country ideas. Not that it would be their first bad one when it comes to this whole virus thing.”

**XXX**

The siblings made their way through the store as Wakko pushed the cart, Dot sat where the groceries were supposed to go, and Yakko helped to steer from the front. Why his younger brother insisted on pushing, Yakko had no idea. He appreciated the attempt to help, but after they had almost bumped into three people, it was becoming apparent that Wakko was too short to see past the handlebar. That or he was trying to beat Yakko’s record for “World’s Worst Attempt at Driving.”

“It should be in the next aisle,” Yakko announced. “Watch out for the end cap, Wakko,” he added, pulling the cart so it narrowly missed a display of toilet bowl cleaner. Hearing Dot gasp, he quickly looked up and got a good look at the aisle. “What in the name of Weed Memlo…”

The aisle, which would normally be completely covered in hundreds of bundles of toilet paper, was _empty_. The only thing left on the shelves were notes from Wal-Mart apologizing for being out of stock, and one lonely cardboard box at the other end of the aisle.

“These shelves are more naked than the girls in those magazines you keep buying, Yakko,” Wakko said, peering around the cart. Dot made a hacking noise.

“Goodnight everybody,” Yakko muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He made a mental note to re-hide said pieces of literature when he got home. “C’mon, sibs. Maybe if we’re lucky there’ll be some on the other endcap.”

As they walked down the aisle, he noticed that the other side, which would normally be stocked with household cleaning supplies, was bare too. _Yeesh, it’s like a neat freak with the runs blew through this place._

“Yakko, Dot, look!”

He turned around to see Wakko on his tip-toes, peering into the lone box on the opposite shelf. It held a single, beaten-up, cheaply made roll of Great Value toilet paper.

“Hey, nice find, Wak!” the oldest exclaimed, ruffling his brother’s cap with one hand and grabbing the roll with the other. “And it’s only…” His jaw dropped. _$39.95?!_

“You’re a toon, so you’re _privileged_. Don’t act like you can’t afford it.”

The Warners turned to see a round white woman standing a few feet away. She looked to be in her early 40s, had a pixie cut with blonde highlights, wore sunglasses, a pink mask, an expensive blouse, blue jean capris, and sandals. In her cart was a snobby little girl with a dress and tiara, along with what looked like the store’s entire stock of toilet paper.

“Yakko, who’s that lady sticking her nose in our business?” Dot asked.

He smiled, placing a hand on each of the younger Warners’ shoulders. “Sweet siblings of mine, allow me to introduce to you the most obnoxious thing to plague mankind.”

“But we already did a story about Justin Bieber!” Wakko exclaimed.

“I’m afraid this is even worse,” Yakko replied, gesturing to the woman. “Wakko, Dot, meet _Karenus Annoyingus_ and its offspring. Most commonly referred to as Karen, she strikes fear into all innocent retail workers across the country.”

Karen was so wrapped up in creating her own little speech that she didn’t even acknowledge his snark. “You _toons_ have no right to complain about prices. My daughter and _I_ are _actually_ financially oppressed.”

“Yeah, nothing screams ‘I’m poor’ like the $700 Gucci purse your kid’s holding,” Dot muttered.

“You don’t _deserve_ to have that toilet paper, either,” she continued, pointing to the roll in Yakko’s hands. “Don’t you realize that there are people like _me_ who need it? You shouldn’t even be _allowed_ in this aisle! You can’t hog it all for yourself!”

The siblings looked at each other, their single damaged roll of toilet paper, and the mountain of hundreds of rolls in the woman’s cart. Yakko smiled innocently behind his mask, placing his hands behind his back. “You know miss, you’re right.”

“Of course, I am,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “You children are selfish.”

“Yeah,” Yakko continued sweetly. He silently thanked his creators for giving him the composure and acting capabilities to deal with people like this. “You know, as an older brother, it’s my duty to teach my siblings the importance of sharing. Wakko? Dot?”

In one swift and perfect movement, Wakko and Dot transported all of the rolls from Karen’s cart to their own, leaving the damaged one in her cart.

“Well, we’re off to spread the wealth!” Yakko said to her with a cheeky grin. He quickly tossed his siblings onto the soft pile of toilet tissue before pushing the cart and speeding away.

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Karen screeched. “I WILL REPORT YOU TO THE MANAGER!”

“Tell him we said hi!” Dot shouted cheerfully from the cart with a little wave. Meanwhile, Wakko had pulled a cannon out of his gag bag and was now shooting rolls of toilet paper into random customers’ baskets and carts, much to the delight of many. Once there were only three rolls left, Wakko put the cannon away and Yakko stopped running.

“Well, sibs,” he said happily, trying to catch his breath. “Looks like we’ve made a new special friend!”

“Are we gonna go hunt her down?” Dot asked excitedly.

“Nah,” he replied. “We won’t have to! It’s a Karen. She’ll come to _us_.”

**XXX**

“Yakko, can we get this?”

As the Warners stood in the breakfast aisle, the oldest sibling looked up from the box of cereal he had been inspecting to see what his brother was holding and immediately raised an eyebrow. Oreo-O’s? Sure. Pumpkin Spice Cheerios? Super basic white girl, but he could get behind it. But who on God’s green Earth asked for _Lucky Charms and Frosted Flakes to be mixed together?_

“Ehhh…I don’t know, Wak,” he replied, putting his thumb and index finger to his chin. “I don’t think…”

Wakko immediately gave him the puppy-dog eyes, clutching the light blue box with a leprechaun on it to his chest. Yakko playfully narrowed his eyes at Dot, who shrugged at him. She was definitely giving Wakko ‘How-to-manipulate-dearest-older-brother’ lessons behind his back.

“Okay, fine,” he relented, earning a happy ‘yay’ from his brother. “But save the sugar rush for appointments with Scratchy.”

“I always do!” Wakko said cheerfully, tossing the box in the cart.

“THERE THEY ARE!”

The Warners turned around to see an angry Karen glaring at them, dragging her cart (complete with kid) and a tired, balding manager behind her.

“They stole my toilet paper!” she snarled. “I want it back and for them to be kicked out of this store immediately!”

There was a single beat before Wakko suddenly fell to his knees.

“But mommy, we wanna stay with you!” he wailed, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“Yeah!” Dot cried. “Why do you always try to abandon us like daddy?!”

Yakko tsked, a smirk once again hidden behind his mask. “See what you did, _mom_? Now we’re gonna need to go to therapy again. This is just like that time you locked us in the car for six hours on the hottest day of the year.”

The manager narrowed his eyes at the woman. “Ma’am, am I going to have to call the police?”

“THEY AREN’T MY KIDS!” Karen screamed in his face. “I don’t even know—”

Dot coughed dramatically. “Mommy, you know I have asthma! Why aren’t you social distancing? Especially since you won’t let us get vaccinated!”

“It’s okay, Dot,” Yakko said, patting her back. “Like mommy always says, we can use the crystals at home to cure you!”

“Yeah!” Wakko chimed in. “Just like how she says fasting and essential oils will fix my hypoglycemia!”

The manager glared at Karen again. “You’re one messed up lady. Take better care of your kids.” He then stormed away, leaving the fuming woman alone with her actual kid and the Warners.

Yakko crossed his arms. “Nice job, _mommy_. Drove another man away, just like ya did with dad.”

“I miss dadoo,” Wakko pouted.

“I’M NOT YOUR MOMMY!”

“That’s not what the state of California says!” Yakko declared in a sing-song voice.

Karen looked like she wanted to burn a hole in his head just by using her eyes. “You and your bratty siblings need to leave me and my _actual_ daughter alone!”

“Wow, way to rub it in our faces that we’re adopted,” he shot back. “You know how sensitive we are about it!”

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE!”

“Of course you do! We’re the Warner Brothers!” Yakko and Wakko exclaimed.

“And the Warner Sister,” Dot added from the cart. “How could you forget about me, mommy? I’m the cutest kid you ever had!”

“HEY!” her actual daughter screamed, looking up for the first time from her brand-new iPhone.

“Pay them no mind, Patricia,” Karen said, grabbing her cart. “They’re just trying to use their _privilege_ to discriminate against us.”

“Discriminate?” Yakko gasped, faking an offended look. “We would never!”

“Yeah,” Wakko piped up. “We harass all types of people equally!”

“Even snobby ladies like you!” Dot exclaimed.

Karen growled like an angry beaver at her fake offspring. “I’m going to say this once. LEAVE ME ALONE!” Pushing her cart, she left the aisle, completely forgetting about her stolen toilet paper.

“Do you think she’s gonna come back again?” Dot asked.

“I don’t _think_ so, sister sibling,” Yakko replied, his confidence clearly audible. “I _know_.”

**XXX**

Wakko sat on the metal bench outside of the fitting room, his arms crossed impatiently as he waited for Dot to inspect what felt like the millionth outfit. Yakko had said that he needed to keep his promise about not complaining about clothes shopping, but the way he had eyed the clothing section employee and the “Hellooo nurse!” that followed soon after hinted at the real motive for staying in this part of the store for so long. Thus, Yakko got to talk to a babe a few yards away, and Wakko was assigned the wonderful task of watching Dot try to choose between nearly identical outfits.

“What do you think of this one, Wakko?” she asked, coming towards him and holding up a pink skirt.

“It’s exactly like the one you’re wearing right now,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

She put her hands on her hips and mirrored his expression. “You really don’t know anything about clothes, do you?”

“Sis, I don’t even bother wearing pants.”

Behind the blue mask, it looked like Dot had opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and shrugged. “Fair point,” she conceded, sitting on the bench next to him.

“MOMMY, I WANT THAT SKIRT!”

The two siblings looked to the left to see Patricia and Karen walking towards them, Karen looking smug and Patricia whining all the way. Yakko, who was still drooling over the Wal-Mart girl, had been right again about the beast coming back.

“I want that,” Patricia spat, pointing to the skirt in Dot’s hands.

“You can get your own over there,” Dot shot back. She squeezed the hanger and jerked her head in the direction of the clothing rack.

“No!” the little girl pouted, stomping her foot on the floor. “I want that one.”

“You heard my baby girl,” Karen said. Wakko could almost hear the smirk behind the mask. “Give it to her.”

He felt like there was a dirty joke to be made in there somewhere, but couldn’t think of one as fast as Yakko would’ve, so he decided to keep quiet for now.

“Do you people practice being entitled or is it something that runs in the family?” Dot asked. “Because looking at both you and your daughter, I’m starting to think it’s both.”

Karen was unfazed. “Of course, we’re entitled to that skirt. _I’ve_ been a loyal customer here for the past year.”

“Lady, my brothers and I remember the first Wal-Mart ever opening up,” Dot deadpanned. “You remember the ‘60s, don’t you? I think you had your 30th high school reunion then.”

The look of triumph was wiped off of Karen’s face and replaced with one of rage and disgust. “Just give me the damn skirt, you _inkstain._ ”

_Inkstain?_

The harshest insult used against toons, and this woman just used it to refer to his _sister?_

Wakko could feel the hot, angry steam rushing out of his ears as his heart thudded wildly against his ribcage. Who the hell did she think she was? He and Dot were just minding their own business! How could she even _think_ something like that?!

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was on his feet and standing between the woman and Dot. “YOU CAN’T TALK TO MY BABY SISTER LIKE THAT, YOU WITCH!”

“Oh, shut up, you filthy weasel,” Karen spat. “Let the ugly thing defend herself.”

“She is _not_ ugly!” he exploded, whipping his mallet out of his hammerspace. He prepared himself to brain her with it, but was restricted by a familiar pair of arms. “Yakko, let go of me—”

“Wakko, you’re gonna get arres—”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“Put the mallet dow—”

“NO!”

“WAKKO!”

That made him stop. Yakko wasn’t much of a yeller, but it shocked the middle sibling enough to make him stop thrashing. He dropped the mallet on the floor, which prompted Yakko to loosen his grip so he could turn around and look at him. Trying to take deep breaths, he shifted his gaze to Dot, who seemed more shocked by her brothers’ actions than anything else.

Yakko took both of his siblings’ hands (Wakko’s still trembling in anger, he noted), already crouched down to meet them at eye-level, and returned to his normal tone of voice. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there right away to help you two. I didn’t hear anything until Wakko started yelling. Now, what happened?”

“That witch called Dot an ugly inkstain,” Wakko hissed quietly, the last word bitter on his tongue.

Yakko inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to quell the rage that had just erupted in his heart. Smashing the woman with a mallet suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea, but she had already escaped with her daughter, her cart, and the Warners’ cart too. How could that sorry excuse for a woman say such a thing to his little sister? They had made a few jokes at her expense, sure, but it hadn’t been even one-tenth of what they put Scratchy through on a weekly basis. Not to mention that _she_ had started every confrontation. Yes, Yakko had predicted that she would seek them out rather than the other way around, but it didn’t change the fact that the Warners usually had to go looking for their “special friends” after their initial meeting.

He finally exhaled and looked at his sister, squeezing her hand. “Are you okay, Dot?” he asked tenderly.

“I’m fine,” she replied, still looking a little surprised. Her face then contorted into one of anger. “But she called Wakko a filthy weasel.”

Another eruption of rage in his chest. _I’m gonna need blood pressure medication before today’s over…_

Wakko shrugged, now considerably calmer than he was a few moments ago. At least he cooled down quickly. “It wasn’t a big deal. I’m more upset about what she said to Dot.”

Yakko pulled them both into a hug. “Either way, she shouldn’t have said that stuff about you guys. Wakko, you’re not a filthy weasel. And Dot you’re not an…an inkstain.” The word felt disgusting on his lips. “Sorry I was too late to tape her mouth shut.” Breaking up the hug, he smiled at them. “What I’m not too late for is to declare Warners on Karen, if my darling siblings are up for it. Whaddaya say?”

Even with the masks, he knew smiles were spreading across their faces. “Yeah!” they exclaimed.

“Then this means Warners,” Yakko said proudly as he rose to his feet. He performed a spin-change, adding a Wal-Mart vest and baseball cap to his regular outfit. “Follow my lead. I’ve got an idea.”

**XXX**

Yakko stood behind the cash register in his Wal-Mart disguise, waiting for their “special friend” to arrive. He looked over to his brother, who was wearing the same disguise and standing by the bagging carousel. Honestly, between the vests, hats, and masks, they were pretty unrecognizable, especially to someone as dumb as Karen. And with every other register shut down, it didn’t take very long before she finally made an appearance, her spoiled daughter still sitting in the cart attached to her phone.

“Bag these the way _I_ want them bagged,” Karen spat at her ‘bagger’ as she slammed the items down on the belt.

Seeing her gut pressed up against the counter, Yakko gasped. “Congratulations! How far along are you?”

“I’m not pregnant!” she snapped.

“Oh, I know, I know,” Yakko said calmly, waving with one hand and scanning groceries with the other. “I meant on your quest to break the scale at Dr. Now’s.” He smirked behind the mask as she growled like an angry beaver again, slamming cans down so hard she was probably putting dents in whatever was underneath the belt. He continued to pass items to Wakko, who was aiming to be the worst bagger in existence. He put giant cans on top of bread, a heavy package of flour on her eggs, a bag of chips under three two-liter bottles of soda, and exposed produce in with raw chicken. Of course, all of these bags were filled far beyond the capacity of what should even be put in something made of thin plastic.

Karen didn’t notice this right away since she was too busy trying to pick a fight with her cashier. “These coupons aren’t supposed to expire until tomorrow. I demand you honor them!” she exclaimed, furiously throwing about fifty in Yakko’s face.

“It’s tomorrow in Australia,” Yakko replied, examining his gloves.

“WE’RE NOT IN AUSTRALIA!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s tomorrow over there.”

The she-beast poked a fat finger to his chest. “Listen, you insignificant cashier. You better do what I say or I’m gonna turn you into your manager!”

“Ehh…no thanks,” Yakko said innocently. “We love our boss, but I could never rock the bald look like he does. Now your total is $159.74.”

“WHAT?!” she exploded. “I only got $50 worth of stuff!”

“I know,” he said casually, leaning against the counter. “Isn’t sales tax crazy these days?”

“YOU TRIPLE SCANNED EVERYTHING!” Karen bellowed, her nostrils flaring as she pointed to the screen next to the register. “Void it all and START OVER!”

“Sorry, no can do,” Yakko replied with a shrug. “I’m just an insignificant cashier. You’re gonna have to finish the transaction and take your receipt and complain to the courtesy booth.”

“Trust me, I will,” she grumbled, shoving her card into the machine and punching the keypad. As the abnormally long receipt printed, she finally got a good look at the mess that used to be her groceries. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Most of the bags were broken, their contents spilling all over the cart and onto the floor.

“Well, you never specified how _you_ wanted them bagged,” Wakko said innocently. “So, I pretended I was you and did it the way I thought _you_ would.”

“A.K.A, like an idiot,” Yakko chimed in from the register.

“I’M GONNA GET YOU BOTH FIRED!” she shouted as she ripped the receipt from Yakko’s hands. The two brothers winked at each other as Karen stormed over to the courtesy booth where a Wal-Mart dressed Dot was waiting for her.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” Dot asked sweetly. “Besides give you totally needed fashion advice.”

“I need a complete refund,” Karen huffed, slapping the receipt down on the counter. “I also need to speak to the manager. Those two goons at the register completely messed up my order.”

“Sure, anything for our _valued_ customer!” she replied as she repeatedly tapped the receipt with a pen. “Just sign at the bottom.”

The woman took the pen and, upon removing the cap, was sprayed in the face with ink. It didn’t stop until her glasses, mask, and expensive blouse were completely covered.

“Sorry!” Dot exclaimed. Her voice then dropped by half an octave. “Looks like I gave you an _inkstain_.”

The woman’s angry features morphed into ones of shock and realization, then back into rage. “THAT’S IT!” she shouted, ripping off her stained mask. “I’VE HAD IT WITH YOU STUPID BRAT—”

“HEY! PUT A MASK ON!”

The manager had appeared next to Dot behind the counter. “NO MASK, NO SERVICE!”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Karen shouted. “ _I’m_ the customer! _I’m_ always right!”

“Yeah, right!” As she continued to screech, the man dragged the offending woman by the back of the shirt to the exit of the building before booting her out of the store and far into the parking lot. “AND STAY OUT!”

“MOM!” Patricia screamed from the cart. She jumped out of the cart and ran outside, her phone in hand. Another shriek was heard when she dropped the device on the ground and shattered the screen completely.

With an earth-shattering thud, Karen landed on her butt on the pavement next to her brand-new minivan. She rummaged angrily through her purse for her keys as her daughter wailed in the background. “WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY?!”

“Hey, over here!”

She looked up to see her three tormentors standing in the doorway next to the manager, back in their regular clothes. The one in the blue turtleneck held up her keys, lowered his mask, dropped her keys into his gaping mouth, and put the mask back on before waving. As Karen threw a tantrum and tried to break into her minivan, the four went back inside.

“That woman has been such a pain in the ass,” the manager sighed, rubbing his bald head. “Hey, do you kids want a free 24-pack of toilet paper?”

“Do we ever!” the Warners exclaimed.

“Good,” he said, patting Wakko on the head. “I’ll be right back.”

As the manager disappeared into the depths of the super Wal-Mart, Wakko looked up at his brother. “Do you think Plotzy’s noticed that the door to the tower is gone yet?”

“Only one way to find out,” Yakko replied. “You got a phone floating around in your gag bag?” 

The middle Warner pulled the burlap sack out of his turtleneck and rummaged around a bit before finally retrieving a Samsung Galaxy Note 7 and handing it to his brother.

“Doubles as a mode of communication and an explosive,” Yakko noted, amused. “Not bad.” He dialed a few numbers before putting the phone to his ear, winking at his siblings. After a few seconds, he spoke up again. “Hey, Plotzy! How ya doin’?”

There was a disgruntled sigh on the other end. _“What do you want, Yakko?”_

“Sooo…the sibs and I are at Wal-Mart, and we were just wondering if—”

_“What do you mean you’re at Wal-Mart?! You’re supposed to be sitting in that tower behaving yourselves! How did you get out?!”_

“Yeah, about that. Have you fixed the door yet? It’s supposed to be cold tonight and we’d rather not freeze to death in our sleep.”

_“What do you me—”_ There was a pause, then a scream of rage. _“I JUST LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW! HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU BREAK THE DO—”_

Yakko held the screaming device away from his ear and looked at his brother and sister. “Well, I guess that answers that question.” He put the phone back up to his ear, wincing at the volume of Plotz’s screeching. “Well, TP, give us a call when it’s fixed, okay? We’ll be back before ya know it!” He hung up and handed the phone to his brother, who tossed it in his bag seconds before a small explosion was heard.

“So, where are we gonna sleep tonight?” Dot asked, crossing her arms.

“Fear not, sister sibling,” Yakko replied with a pat on her head. “Lucky for us, we’re about to get a rare commodity that we can use to our advantage.”

**XXX**

Dr. Otto Scratchansniff gently set his pot roast down on the kitchen table with oven-mitted hands, inhaling the delicious scent. Though he had been relatively frugal for the past two weeks due to the pandemic, he decided that tonight he would treat himself with a nice, homemade dinner. With the lack of actors on the Warner Bros. lot, he had decided to hold his p-sychiatry appointments over Zoom. And now that he didn’t have to commute through the streets of Burbank twice a day, he had had much more time to clean and organize his humble, yet cozy apartment.

As he set a plate for himself and sat down to eat his meal, he realized that, despite the circumstances of the world, he was less stressed than usual. And he had a sneaking suspicion as to why. That lack of stress, of course, came with a little bit of loneliness, and he also had a suspicion that it had nothing to do with the fact that he was now seeing patients over Zoom rather than in person.

Before he could explore the thought (or his meal), he heard knuckles rapping on his apartment door. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he called, getting up from the table. He hadn’t invited anyone over…who would be knocking at dinnertime?

He opened the door to see three eager faces, all with wide smiles and batting eyelashes.

“Hiya, Scratchy.”

_Oh. That is who._

Scratchansniff sighed, running a hand down his face. “Hello, Yakko. I understand you kidses have probably been very bored in your tower, but please…vait, how did you get out of your tower?”

“Wakko broke the door down,” Dot answered simply, sticking her thumb in her brother’s direction. Wakko gave a big smile and a wave.

The p-sychiatrist raised an eyebrow. “Does Mr. Plotz know?”

“Sure, sure,” Yakko replied with a cheeky grin. “I called him on Wakko’s bomb.” Before Scratchansniff could ask, the oldest Warner kept talking, as usual. “Hey, doc, do you mind if we crash on your couch until the door’s fixed? It’s supposed to be cold tonight.”

“We’ll even share our toilet paper with you!” Wakko exclaimed, pulling a pack bigger than himself out of his hammerspace.

Scratchansniff sighed again, looking down at the trio. Yes, over the past twenty-something years, he had grown fond of the three…whatever-they-ares, but inviting them into his _home?_ How did they even _find_ his apartment? “Well, I don’t know…”

“Oh, _please_ , Dr. Scratchansniff!” the middle sibling begged, falling to the floor and grabbing his ankles.

“We’ll be ever so good!” Yakko added dramatically.

“Please, let us in!” Dot exclaimed. “You know how that cough of mine acts up when I’m out in the cold for too long!”

Scratchansniff gave her an unimpressed look. Every single one of them knew that that coughing thing was part of a movie. But, seeing their big puppy-child eyes and having seen the weather forecast for that night, he felt his defenses against their overdramatic begging quickly crumble. “Oh, alright,” he relented.

“Yay!” the Warners cheered. They jumped into his arms and planted three huge kisses on his head.

“But I get a quarter of the toilet paper,” he said sternly. “And Vakko, please don’t eat my entire pot roast. And none of the monkey business! I just cleaned the apartment today.”

_“Don’t know what to say, the monkeys won’t do!”_

Scratchansniff groaned, mumbling an “oh, nein, oh, nein,” before carrying the “kidses” into his apartment and shutting the door.

It was going to be a long night.

**XXX**

Long after their p-sychiatrist had given up on a peaceful evening and gone to bed, Yakko woke up on the couch, not to the sound of birds chirping, not to the sound of Scratchansniff screaming, but to the sound of his sibs’ soft whispers coming from the kitchen. He opened his eyes just a little to see the time on Scratchy’s old VCR—12:48 AM. Curious, but not awake enough to get up and intervene right away, he perked his ears up just a bit and listened.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Dot?” a little Scouse voice asked.

“Wakko, I’m _fine_ ,” an even tinier voice insisted. “Really, I am. It’s just a word. And what she said to you wasn’t that great either.”

_I have a few choice words I wish I’d said to her, myself,_ Yakko thought, putting the pieces together. Between getting back at their “special friend”, the acquisition of toilet paper, and invading Scratchy’s apartment, the three had barely had time to even think about Karen’s cruel words. Or at least, Yakko had hoped his siblings hadn’t. He had certainly been thinking about it in the back of his mind.

It seemed they were thinking about it now, though. He lifted his head a little and looked towards the kitchen, pondering whether they needed his comfort at the moment or if they would be okay by themselves. Their shadows were cast on the wall, the outline of two pairs of ears, a baseball cap, and a flower clearly visible.

“Sis, I’ve been called a lot worse in hate mail,” Wakko’s voice replied. “‘Filthy weasel’ is a compliment compared to that stuff. But it’s not often that we get called…that. I just want to make sure you’re not bottling anything up.”

“Really, Wakko, I’m okay,” was Dot’s answer. Yakko could tell it was genuine, thankfully. “I get that you and Yakko are worried, but you don’t have to be. Just because I’m the youngest doesn’t mean I can’t handle some bitchy old lady’s comments.”

He could hear Wakko snicker at her language.

“Alright,” the middle sibling said. His shadow outstretched its arms. “Want a hug?”

His sister’s shadow merged with his brother’s, creating one mass on the wall.

“By the way, it’s your turn to sleep on the couch with Yakko,” she muttered. “He makes a good pillow, but it doesn’t do me any good if he wakes me up every five minutes with his sleep-singing. I get the chair for the rest of the night.”

“Ugh, fine,” Wakko groaned.

Yakko stifled a chuckle and closed his eyes again, nestling back into the couch and his pillow. Wakko and Dot were fine—if they needed any further comforting, he knew they would come to talk to him about it. Within a few minutes, he soon felt his brother crawl onto the couch and partly onto him, using his chest as a pillow. About a foot away he could hear Dot curling up in the chair as she wrapped one of Scratchy’s blankets around herself.

After a few minutes of silence, Yakko smirked in the darkness and loudly cleared his throat.

_“A quake, a quake! The earth begins to shake…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! Comments are always appreciated, let me know what you think :)


	7. Grog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wakko gets wasted while filming 'Ballad of Magellan', a situation that Yakko (of course) has to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, Animaniacs 2020 drops at midnight! Here's one of my favorite one-shots that I've written. As some of you might know, in 'Ballad of Magellan', there's a split-second shot where Wakko can be seen drinking Grog (alcohol) during the song. When I saw that, I knew there was a story to tell somewhere. It just so happens I've also been to the very island where Magellan was murdered, so I incorporated a lot of little details about Cebu and the general area here! Hope you enjoy!

_ Grog _

“ _Cut!_ Dot, you were a little flat on that last harmony,” Barry said into the megaphone. “Let’s take five and try it again after, guys. I gotta call the studio. Apparently they can’t find Pinky and the Brain.”

“It would help if Randy and the others wrote something in my key rather than Yakko’s, for once,” Dot mumbled.

Yakko smiled as he walked across the ship and over to his sister. “Hey, don’t forget that I’m the one actually singing the verses,” he teased, lazily resting his forearm on top of her head.

“Yeah, yeah, what else is new?” Dot asked. “And don’t do that. You’ll mess up my hair.”

“My mistake, Your Highness. We wouldn’t want you back in your dressing room for another three hours.” His smirk grew when she groaned at him, but didn’t bother to move. Dot had been grumpy most of the morning—they had spent the week filming the Season 3 finale of _Animaniacs_ , which was going to be an all musical episode. Wakko had three shorts focused on him (including a song about Hello Nurse), while Yakko received a little ditty about the Panama Canal and solos throughout ‘The Ballad of Magellan’, which they were currently filming. It seemed Dot had gotten the short end of the stick, but Ruegger had promised they had written plenty of skits focused on her in the upcoming seasons. Yakko knew her brief spout of jealousy would pass along with her cranky jetlag.

The episode they were currently filming had been given a higher budget than the previous ones, which allowed the Warners and the crew to fly out to Panama, Spain, and the Philippines for Yakko’s songs. He had to admit, the fifteen-hour time difference between Cebu and Burbank was a rough adjustment, especially after sitting in a cramped airplane seat for fourteen hours. He really wished they had been given the option to take a page out of Bugs’ book and travel by rabbit hole.

“You know where Wakko is, sis?” he asked. He scanned the ship with his eyes but didn’t see their brother. A few feet away there was a world map, which toon-Magellan was studying, while the camera crew and directors were on the other end of the boat by the helm. In the distance, past the blue ocean water, he could see Lapu-Lapu City on the Philippine Island of Mactan.

“He keeps drinking the rainwater out of that barrel behind the mast,” Dot replied, gesturing to the wooden structure behind them with her thumb. “It smells weirder than he does.”

“Well, it is 90 degrees out,” Yakko said, finally removing his forearm from his sister’s head. “I feel like I’m breathing water myself.” Despite the warm weather, he and Dot were given _more_ clothing for their costumes; he had been given a white shirt and thick blue hat, while she wore a pink shirt and shorts. Wakko was the only one to escape the humid fate and just traded in his usual turtleneck for a striped one. Speaking of which…

“Yakko, I feel funny,” the middle sibling mumbled, wandering over to them.

“Well, I _am_ funny,” Yakko joked.

“That’s debatable,” Dot muttered under her breath.

“I really think there’s somethin’ wrong,” Wakko said, clutching his stomach.

The oldest frowned in concern and placed the back of his hand to his brother’s forehead. “It doesn’t feel like you have a fever, at least…will you be okay until we’re done filming? It’s just one last verse and chorus. After that we can go back to the hotel and I can help you feel better before our flight tomorrow.” He winced; at the mention of the long plane ride, Wakko looked like he was going to puke for a second, but quickly recovered.

“Okay!” he replied cheerfully, standing up straighter. “So long as Dottie doesn’t keep messing up, I should be able to make it until then.”

Dot groaned. “If you didn’t actually look like you were gonna throw up just now, I’d consider keeping us here for another four hours for that.”

“Alright, places, people!” Barry yelled into the megaphone. “Let’s give it one last shot.”

“C’mon, sibs,” Yakko said, putting his hands on his siblings’ shoulders. As he led the two back to the map near toon-Magellan, he kept a close eye on his brother. Maybe the heat was finally making him hallucinate, but he could’ve sworn he counted three separate instances where Wakko almost tripped over nothing.

**XXX**

Okay, he definitely wasn’t hallucinating.

Wakko couldn’t even walk in a straight _line_ at this point.

“Wakko, can you come over here?” Yakko called, leaning against the railing of the ship. As the crew packed up the cameras and set props, he took the opportunity to observe his brother. At first, other than almost tripping a couple of times, it seemed like he was fine; he could still sing and dance like normal. But after they had wrapped up filming, the middle Warner could barely stand on his own.

The younger brother stumbled over to him and would’ve fallen flat on his face if Yakko hadn’t caught him by the arm at the last second. “What’s the sitch, daddy-o…” he slurred, his tongue limply sticking out. “What it is, what it is…”

Yakko furrowed his brow as he studied his sibling’s face. “Wak, why are you stumbling around like Charlie Sheen would at eight in the morning?” he asked cautiously. He gently, yet firmly, had his hands placed on his brother’s arms, afraid that he would go careening toward the deck again if he let go.

“I dunno,” he hiccupped, weakly pointing a finger at his older brother. “Why aren’t _you_ stumbling around like Sharlie Cheen at eight in the morning?”

Yakko shook his head. “Ehh…I really think you need to get out of the sun, sib. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were—"

“Yakko, what’s grog?”

_What?_

He turned to his left to see his sister standing a few feet away and raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“This label was on the barrel that Wakko kept drinking out of,” she replied, pulling a tattered sign out of her hammerspace. Surely enough, it read ‘GROG’ in big, blocky letters.

_Oh my God, he’s wasted._

He looked back down at his brother, who was looking up at the clouds with a goofy smile plastered on his face. How could he not have _realized_? The slightly slurred words, guzzling down the contents of a sketchy barrel…actually, no, those were regular behaviors for the middle sibling. The stumbling wasn’t, though. Wakko wasn’t the most graceful creature on the planet, but he most definitely wasn’t someone known to have two left feet. He looked around, making sure no one else was in earshot. “Did you even _know_ you were drinking alcohol, Wakko?” he asked.

“Maaayyybeeee…”

Yakko sighed and looked up at the sky, annoyed with himself for not preventing this. Well, at least his brother wasn’t having a heat stroke…and was still a goofball when drunk, apparently. “How much of that barrel did you drink?”

“The whoooleeee enchilada,” Wakko answered, wildly swinging his arms in the air to show how big the ‘enchilada’ was. He gasped and looked up at his brother. “Do you think they have Mexican food here in the Philippines?”

“You had nachos for lunch at the mall,” he muttered, then turned back to his sister. “Dot, come help me with your brother. We should head back to the hotel and make sure he doesn’t ingest any other brain-altering substances.”

“Hard to alter something that’s non-existent,” she said as she walked over to them.

**XXX**

Yakko, still in his oven of a costume, half-carried and half-dragged his brother up the cement stairs of the hotel. By now, Dot was probably three flights of stairs ahead of them. “Somehow I don’t remember even Hades being this hot,” he panted, passing the fifth floor. _Only eight more to go…_

“Helloooo nurse!” Wakko hollered at no one, his voice echoing throughout the stairwell.

“Not that kind of hot, Wak,” he grunted as he hoisted his brother’s arm over his shoulder for the millionth time. As they slowly, but surely, made their way up the stairs, Yakko had plenty of time to ponder their current situation, and more importantly, think about how he was going to fix it.

_Okay. Wakko is more smashed than Baloney under an anvil. If the crew finds out, word’ll get to Plotz and he’ll kill both of us. Dot’ll probably cute her way out of it since he hates her the least. So, we’ll just lock ourselves in the hotel room, avoid the tap water at all costs, wait for Wakko to sober up, and hope to Michelle Pfeiffer that he’ll be at least semi-functioning before our flight tomorrow. Then we’ll all go home and I’ll make him watch Cartoon All-Stars To The Rescue on loop for a week._

Locking themselves in a room admittedly wasn’t the most creative plan, but considering they were in a whole new country and he had never taken care of an intoxicated person before, he figured simple might the best way to go.

Groaning under Wakko’s dead weight, he helped him stumble up another flight of stairs. “I’m tellin’ ya, you’re gonna be the death of me someday, sib.”

“Nah, you’re not a ghost,” the younger Warner replied, waving his free hand. “That was just part of a Christmas episode, silly. There’s no _way_ you’d be able to get that many hot nurses in real life!”

“He’s right, you know,” Dot’s voice said from several flights above.

Yakko groaned. “You two are very funny.”

Wakko burst into a fit of giggles. “Plotzy is such a wanker.”

Okay, maybe that was a little funny.

Yakko shook his head as the small hint of a smirk appeared on his lips. “C’mon, Wak. Let’s get to our room before you dislocate my shoulders.”

**XXX**

“AIR CONDITIONING!” Wakko exclaimed. He let go of his brother and flopped onto the cool, tile floor of their hotel room.

“Agreed,” Yakko replied as Dot shut the door behind him. Their hotel room was small and simple, but it served its purpose. There were two twin beds with thin sheets on the left side of the room, while a small wooden table stood on the right. On the table were a tiny mini-fridge and telephone, and underneath sat Yakko and Wakko’s shared carry-on next to Dot’s three huge pieces of luggage. Next to the door was a small bathroom, while the wall opposing the door had a window that overlooked Cebu City.

Dot spin-changed back into her regular pink skirt and plopped onto the bed closest to the door. “I can’t believe we had to film in those costumes during the hottest part of the day,” she panted. “We need to fire our agent.”

“Our agent’s a giant chicken,” Wakko mumbled, his face still pressed up against the floor.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Wak,” Yakko said, locking the door behind him. He began peeling his hat and shirt off, too tired to even think about performing a spin-change. “Okay, sibs. Here’s the plan. Since _someone_ here is intoxicated—”

“Me!” the middle sibling shouted, raising his hand in the air.

“—we’re gonna have to hide out in here until morning. In a couple hours, I’ll go to the 7-Eleven down the road and get us dinner. You guys stay here. Don’t let anyone come in here, okay? Oh, and don’t drink the tap.”

“Okay,” Dot replied.

“Don Knotts is my faaaaavorite deputy,” Wakko mumbled from the floor.

She looked down at him, then up at the oldest. “Do you need help taking care of him?”

“It’s okay,” he replied. He picked his brother up and carrying him to the empty bed. Once the younger one was in a position where he hopefully wouldn’t roll off, he sat down next to him and looked at his sister. “You should get some sleep, Dot. You’re jetlagged out of your mind. I can see it in your face.”

“Yeah, but Wakko’s drunk—”

“Am not!”

“—and you’re tired too,” Dot continued as she rubbed her eye. “I wanna help.”

Yakko smirked and walked over to her bed, pulling the sheet back and fluffing the pillow. “I appreciate the offer, sis, but I’ll be okay.” He patted the bed, inviting her to come lay down where his hand was. “The whole ‘wasted’ thing might be a first, but I’m sure I can handle it,” he chuckled. “If anything happens, I promise I’ll wake you up, okay?”

After a few seconds, Dot finally conceded. “Oh, alright,” she muttered, laying down and sinking into the pillow. He could see her eyes already starting to flutter shut. “But you have to tell me the story.”

“Sounds good to me.” He reached over and gently stroked her ears. “Once upon a time, a brave night married a beautiful…” he stifled a small laugh, as she was already asleep. _A new record._

“I wanna hear the story too,” Wakko whispered from the other bed. Apparently, even under the influence, he knew waking up his sister was a bad idea.

Yakko sat down next to him with a raised eyebrow. “You wanna hear the princess story?”

“No, no,” he slurred, shaking his head. “The _real_ story. About all three of us. Please?”

Looking into his brother’s huge puppy-dog eyes, the oldest sighed and smiled a little. _He’s worse than Dot sometimes._ “Okay, you got me. Scooch over.” Once there was more room on the bed, he sat down and leaned his back against the headboard and pillows and wrapped an arm around his brother. “Once upon a time, there was a toon named Buddy.”

“But his cartoons were _boring_ ,” Wakko chimed.

“Right,” Yakko said. “So, Mr. Plotz—”

“The wanker?”

“Yes. So, Mr. Plotz hired a guy named Frank to come up with some new cartoon stars to spice up Buddy’s boring cartoons,” he continued. “But one night he was really tired, so he put a liiittle too much zany in the ink before he started drawing. The first toon was a tall, rather handsome guy if I do say so myself,” he said with a smirk.

“And he would never, ever, ever, shut up,” Wakko added with a goofy grin, booping his brother on the nose.

“Exactly,” Yakko replied proudly. “And then he drew another toon, this time a little younger and a lot wackier. He didn’t talk as much, but he was really good with his hammerspace and a mallet. And that one was—”

“Me!” Wakko whispered excitedly.

Yakko booped him back. “Right again, brother sib. So, Frank said, ‘Mr. Plotz, I did it! I created the Warner Brothers!’”

“Fabooo!” he said quietly, throwing his hands in the air and narrowly missing Yakko’s face.

“But then the network said they wanted a little girl for Buddy’s show too,” the oldest sibling continued. “So, the next night, Frank used the same inkwell and created the cutest toon Hollywood had ever seen—the Warner sister. And her name was…”

Wakko looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Princess Angelina…Louisa…Princess Angelina Contessa Francesa…Princess Banana Fana…Pincess…”

“Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third,” Yakko said easily with a smirk. “But we can call her Dot—”

“—or Dottie when she’s not around to kill us,” he finished with a grin, his tongue sticking out once again.

Yakko smiled and ruffled his brother’s cap. “Right. Then, one day, the Warner Brothers and the Warner Sister hopped off the drawing board and drove every single person in Burbank crazy. But audiences loved how they malleted Buddy, so after a while, they finally received their own cartoons.”

“And people thought they didn’t make any sense for some reason,” Wakko added, scratching his head.

“That or Plotz wanted us out of his thinning hair,” he mumbled. “Anyway, they locked the three toons in the tower for a long, long, time. And after many attempts to break, pick, and blow up the lock…”

“I ate it!” Wakko said proudly.

“And then they met Steven Spielberg, got a hit show, met lots of nurses, and lived happily ever after.”

“And every night, I fall asleep with a great, big, lock in my stomach,” Wakko finished with another goofy smile, snuggling into his brother’s chest.

Yakko chuckled. “Along with the rest of the food within a mile radius.”

They sat in silence for a while as he rubbed his sibling’s back, the only sounds in the room coming from the air conditioner or Dot’s soft (cute) snoring. It had been a while since Yakko had told that story—Wakko didn’t ask for it often. The most recent time had been a few years ago after he had a nightmare and a bout of performance anxiety near the beginning of _Animaniacs_ , but other than that, he hadn’t even mentioned it. It was nice to tell it tonight, even if Wakko probably wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

His brother’s voice stirred him from his musings. “Are you mad at me for drinkin’ that stuff, Yakko?” he asked softly.

“Ehh…I wouldn’t say I’m mad, sib,” Yakko replied. “I wish you hadn’t done it, but I’m not angry. Just frustrated, is all.” _Frustrated with me, too._ Seeing the frown on Wakko’s face, he added, “Don’t worry too much about it right now, okay? You’re still really out of it. We’ll talk about it in the morning when you’re sober.” _That’s a sentence I didn’t expect to say today._

It was true that he wasn’t mad at him, though. Frustrated, annoyed, and baffled as to why Wakko did such a reckless thing, sure, but not full-on mad. He rarely felt anger toward his brother and sister—sometimes it would slip out on a bad day during petty sibling squabbles, but it hardly ever appeared when he had to be the disciplinarian, and even that within itself was a rare occurrence.

Anger towards himself though…that was also rare, but still much more common than anger pointed at his siblings.

Wakko looked unconvinced for a minute, then confused. “I forgot what I was ponderin’.”

Yakko smiled, shaking his head. “How much you wanna sleep,” he said, lightly booping his brother on the nose. “Here, sit up for a sec.” Wakko did so, still wobbling a bit, but it allowed the older Warner to scooch down a bit so he was lying on the bed rather than sitting. “Okay, now you can lie down,” he finished, extending an arm. Wakko flopped down onto his chest with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, but quickly snuggled in at his side. With yet another sigh, he gently patted his brother’s back. “You’re a mess, sib.”

**XXX**

_Oh, c’mon, Wak…how am I supposed to get any sleep with this kid barkin’ all night…day…whatever time it is right now…_

“Wakko, stop kicking me,” Yakko muttered hours later, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow. Unfortunately for the oldest sibling’s attempt to nap, alcohol hadn’t overridden any of his brother’s sleeping quirks. It felt as if every time he was about to succumb to the blissfulness of unconsciousness, Wakko would accidentally do _something_ to intervene. After verbalizing his request, however, the kicking and yipping eventually stopped, and Yakko felt that maybe, just maybe, he would actually be able to get a few minutes of shuteye.

Until the unmistakable sound of a creaky window being pushed open passed his ears.

Yakko’s eyes shot open to find that they were in nearly complete darkness, the only light coming from the city lights that shined into the hotel window where a familiar capped form was precariously perched. “Wakko, get down from there!” he hissed, standing up.

If Wakko had heard him, he didn’t show it. Without even sparing Yakko a glance, he pushed himself off of the window ledge and went plummeting toward the busy city street that laid 13 stories below.

A short scream escaping his throat, Yakko could’ve sworn he felt his heart stop as he jumped out of bed and rushed to the window, only able to helplessly watch as Wakko continued to get further and further away from him and closer and closer to the speeding vehicles and hard pavement. _Please, please, please, remember how to land…_

Miraculously, Wakko rubberized his body at the very last second and landed safely on a small colorful bus without windowpanes or doors, which swerved around a few motorcycles and down the street, out of Yakko’s sight.

That anger that Yakko so rarely experienced was very slowly starting to break through. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, leaning out the window. He hadn’t even been angry about the grog, but _this?_ Now he was jumping out of windows and running off into the middle of the night in some unfamiliar city, while still wasted? Why did Wakko do this? Dammit, why didn’t he _stop_ him? _I should’ve stayed up and kept an eye on him…how could I even_ think _about sleeping when he’s like this?_ He prepared himself to climb out the window when he heard something stir behind him that stopped him dead in his tracks.

_Shoot. Dot._

He hurried over to his sister’s bed and shook her shoulders. “Dot! Dot, wake up!”

She opened her eyes, threw his hands off her, and glared at him so fiercely he could’ve sworn she was going to smash him with her mallet. “What’s with the rude awakening, Yakko?!” she exclaimed. “Somebody better be dying.”

“Our brother very easily could’ve, he just jumped out the window—”

“What?!”

“Shh,” he said, covering her mouth. “You’ll wake up the entire city.” He removed his hand and took a deep breath before finally exhaling. “He landed on some bus thing. I think I heard Barry call it a jeepney earlier today. I’m gonna go down there and find him, so you stay here and sit tight.”

“I’m coming wi—”

“Dot,” he said sternly. “I appreciate you wanting to come, but you can’t. This isn’t like that time we rescued him from the elevator. That was Burbank and we didn’t have to go very far. I have no idea where that jeepney is headed or what’s lurking around at this time of night or what’s even in this city. I really need you to stay here.” His voice softened. “Please, Dot. The longer we sit here and argue, the further away Wakko gets.”

Dot looked down for a second, then up again, and nodded. “Okay.”

Yakko smiled a little. “Thanks, sis.” He quickly pecked her on the forehead and headed back towards the window. “If anyone from the crew comes by to check on us, stall, okay?”

“I will,” she replied, crossing her arms. “You better not get your butt kicked out there.”

“I won’t, sister sibling,” he said with a wink, then looked down at the busy street below him. Taking another deep breath, he leapt out the window and immediately felt the wind rushing beneath him as the busy road got closer and closer. _Three…two…one…_

A split second before he hit the ground, his entire being turned into a rubbery mass as he bounced off the pavement, causing a taxi to swerve around him. He weaved his way toward the side of the road as the honks of cars, jeepneys, and motorcycles rang in his ears before he eventually reached the sweet sanctuary of the sidewalk.

_Okay. Now to find Wakko,_ he thought, looking in the direction that the jeepney had gone, which led to even more city streets. His heartbeat sped up a bit. How was he supposed to find him in this mess?

“Hey, Mickey Mouse Americano! _Kumusta ka?_ Wanna ride on my tricycle?”

Yakko turned around to see a young, dark-skinned man waving to him a few yards away. Next to him was the weirdest tricycle Yakko had ever seen; it was a motorcycle with a rusty pink sidecar attached to the right side, which had its own wheel. The sidecar had small metal seats, a huge doorless opening on the sides, and a tiny paned window in front.

It was a death trap if Yakko had ever seen one. But he was desperate.

He rushed over to the man. “I’m following a jeepney,” he said quickly. “Can you help me track it down?”

“Ah, there’s a lot of them in Cebu, sir,” he replied. “You remember what it looks like?”

“Ehh…blue with pink and orange flames. And it had an advertisement for a karaoke place on the side,” he said, once again grateful for his attention to detail. “It went that way.” He pointed toward the busy intersection. “I don’t have any pesos, but I can pay you in American and—”

“Say no more, Americano,” the driver replied, putting a hand in the air. “I know which jeepney you are looking for.”

“You do?”

“Yes, yes,” he said quickly. “Now hurry and get in the tricycle!”

Yakko hopped into the sidecar as the driver started the engine on the connected motorcycle. He looked down at the bare metal seat. “Hey, does this thing have seatbe—OW!” He banged his head on the back of the sidecar as they launched onto the street, weaving through the much larger vehicles that surrounded them. He gripped the frame where a handle should’ve been, feeling his lunch threaten to come back up as they sped toward an oncoming jeepney, but quickly darted back into the right lane at the last second. “And Dot thinks I’m a danger to the road,” he muttered to himself. “We’ve driven by at least ten cars and I haven’t seen a single person acknowledge the double yellow.”

As if on cue, a taxi went zooming by their left side, so close that Yakko could’ve sworn he heard the motorcycle’s handlebar scrape against the car door. Blinking at the road, he whipped a piece of paper and a pencil out of his hammerspace and began scribbling. _“I, Yakko Warner, toon of Warner Bros. Studios, older brother of Wakko and Dot Warner, declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament…”_

**XXX**

It didn’t take Yakko long to finish his will—he split all of his earthly possessions equally between his siblings and left all of his debts and expenses to Mr. Plotz. This was, of course, assuming his ghost didn’t want to come back to drag Wakko to the afterlife with him.

Thankfully, traffic had begun to die down, and for the first time, Yakko was able to clearly think about how crazy this entire night was, even by his standards. He had no idea where his brother was, no idea where _he_ was, had no way to contact his sister or the studio crew, was only carrying American currency, and had put his life in the hands of a stranger with a tricycle. He only took solace in two things: the fact that he had seen multiple other tricycles on the road dropping people off and picking up new people, which lessened the chance of this motorcycle man kidnapping him, and the fact that Dot was safe in the hotel.

“How come you are following the jeepney, Americano?”

Yakko snapped out of his thoughts and realized that the tricycle man had talked to him over the sound of the whipping wind. “My little brother is on it,” he replied. “I gotta bring him back to the hotel. Our baby sister’s waiting for us.”

Tricycle Man nodded. “Ah. What a good _kuya_.” Yakko didn’t know what a _kuya_ was, but it sounded like a compliment. “My name is Ricky.”

“Yakko Warner.” Honestly, as long as Ricky kept him alive and didn’t kidnap him, he was happy to make conversation. Yakko was never one for silence.

“Ohh, like the studio?” he asked.

“Not much, but I’m contractually bound,” Yakko said with a shrug. Ricky laughed, which brought a small smirk to his face. People always liked that joke. “Hey, Ricky, how did you know I was American before I even opened my mouth? I don’t think they’ve aired my show here yet.”

“Oh, it was very easy to tell,” he replied. “You reminded me of the old Mickey Mouse and Looney Tunes I used to watch with my _ate_ when I was very young. Only Americanos draw cartoons that way.” He studied Yakko for a quick second, then turned his attention back to the road. “I didn’t think they still drew them in your style, though. How long have you had a show?”

“Only a couple years,” Yakko said, rubbing the back of his head. “My siblings and I…ehhh…let’s just say we had a lot of prep time.” He was grateful when Ricky nodded and didn’t push the subject. “So, where’s the jeepney we’re chasing headed?”

“It’s going in a circle around Cebu City,” he replied. “I drove one in the past, so I know all the routes. There’s not a lot of traffic here, so we’ll catch up to it shortly.”

“That’s good,” Yakko sighed in relief. While his main desire was for Wakko to come back to the hotel with him safe and sound, his brother was going to have a lot of questions to answer, sober or not. Jumping out of a building and taking off in the middle of the night was an entirely new level of careless, even for Wakko. He had lots and lots of ‘why’s’ and ‘what-in-the-world-were-you-thinking’s’ on the tip of his tongue, waiting to pour out as soon as he found his sib.

Ricky spoke up again. “I don’t remember them allowing us to put stuff on top of the jeepney.”

Yakko was pulled from his thoughts once more and looked in the direction his driver was glancing. Up ahead, about one hundred feet away, was what they were looking for: a blue jeepney with pink and orange flames and a karaoke advertisement. If he squinted, he could see through the front window of the sidecar that a little black, red, and blue bundle was sitting on top of the speeding vehicle sitting dangerously close to the edge. His eyes quickly widened. “That’s Wakko!”

“I thought you were Wakko?” Ricky said, confused.

“No, no, my brother!” he exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat. “We need to get closer! If he falls off, he could get run over!” Even if his sibling were able to rubberize himself like last time, there was no way he would be able to dodge moving cars once he hit the pavement in his condition. “I’m gonna climb on top of the tricycle.”

“Are you crazy?!” Ricky exclaimed.

“I prefer the term zany,” Yakko quipped as he prepared himself to get out of the sidecar. He quickly reached into his hammerspace and fished out his wallet, pulling out a $50 American bill. “Again, sorry it’s not in pesos, but—”

_“Hala!”_ Ricky gasped. “Oh, nonononono, I can’t take this, it’s too much!”

“Oh, yesyesyesyesyes you can!” he said, shoving the bill into the man’s pocket. “You’re helping me get my brother back. You deserve it. Also, I don’t have any change.” Yakko moved back to the gaping entrance of the sidecar and hung his body out the side, gripping the top and bottom frames with his hands and feet. The wind whipped at him harder than ever, threatening to rip him away and chuck him into the streets. Quickly and carefully, he pulled himself up onto the top of the sidecar and did his best to balance on top of it. “Just like surfing on a whale, Yakko,” he whispered to himself.

“What is the plan?!” Ricky yelled over the roaring wind.

“I’m kinda makin’ this up as I go, Rick,” he replied, keeping his eyes locked on the jeepney. “If he falls off, I’m gonna launch myself off your tricycle, catch him, and hope for the best.”

_“Hala!”_

“Yes, I have to holla over the wind too!” Yakko exclaimed. “Now get closer! He could fall off at any second!”

Ricky shook his head. “If something goes wrong, I can’t turn around to get you! There’s no room on the road!”

“I’ll be fine!” he shouted. They were getting even closer to the jeepney. He could now see Wakko’s features clearly, but it seemed like his brother hadn’t noticed him. He was staring straightforward, expressionless. The target vehicle shifted ever so slightly to the right, bringing him even closer to the edge. They were so close now, Yakko could make out the individual hairs on Wakko’s face—

A taxi in the oncoming lane suddenly swerved in the jeepney’s direction, causing it to jerk to the right. As Wakko tumbled toward the hard pavement, Yakko leapt off the tricycle and wrapped himself around his brother, making sure he was the only one that would make contact with the cement. He rubberized himself at the very last moment but still felt pain shoot up his spine as the two tumbled all the way to the edge of the road. As soon as they stopped moving, he quickly pulled his brother to the nearest sidewalk and out of harm’s way.

_“Thank you, Americano!”_ a voice yelled from further down the road.

Yakko coughed up a little dirt. “Thanks, Ricky,” he said, wiping sand from his face. He examined Wakko and was relieved to see there wasn’t a single scratch on him. When he looked at himself, however, he found multiple cuts, scrapes, and tender spots that would probably bruise in the morning, his beige slacks covered in dirt and ripped in a few places. “Ugh, should’ve rubberized soon enough. I’m gonna need new pants and have to actually wear a shirt tomorrow to cover up this mess,” he muttered. 

He looked back up at his brother, who had his back turned to him, and felt relief flush over him—Wakko was safe and unhurt. It quickly bubbled into anger, though, and in one of those extremely rare moments, it wasn’t directed entirely at himself. “Alright, Wakko, I want an explanation as to why the _hell_ you thought it was a good idea to jump out of a thirteen-story building and hitch a ride through Cebu in the middle of the night,” he spat, crossing his arms. A part of him was shocked at himself for swearing at one of his siblings, but the rest of him didn’t care. This was beyond ridiculous, even for them.

Wakko didn’t move a single muscle or answer.

“Don’t ignore me, Wakko,” he said in a low voice. “You messed up big time tonight. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened? What if I couldn’t find you? What if you got kidnapped? Then what would we do? How would I explain that to Dot?! How would I explain to her that her big brother got drunk on set and disappeared and then her other big brother couldn’t find him, huh?!”

Still nothing.

“What, am I talking to myself here? You might think I’m yacking for fun, but I’m expecting an answer.” After another moment of silence, he stormed around his brother so he would have to look him in the face. “What do you have to say for…” he felt the anger immediately drain from his body as worry crept into his veins. “Wakko?”

Wakko stared right through him, eyes unseeing. When Yakko had seen the expression on his face on the jeepney, he had thought it was a trick of the moonlight. But now, standing near a streetlight and so close to him, he knew this was no optical illusion. And sure, he didn’t know much about the effects of alcohol, but something in his gut told him this wasn’t what a blackout looked like.

“Hey, snap out of it, Wak,” he said, hearing the panic creep into his own voice. He snapped his fingers in front of his face but received no response. “C’mon, sib, you’re scaring me. I really hope you’re not clowning arou—WHOA!” He ducked just in time to avoid a mallet to the face. “What the heck was that for?!”

“Where’s the clown?!” Wakko asked, frantically looking around, the mallet still in his hands. His face contorted into one of confusion. “How did I get outside?”

_What?_

He gasped and looked at his older brother, the focus almost completely returned to his eyes. “Yakko, you look like you got run over by a car! What happened?!”

“I jumped off a tricycle, actually,” Yakko said, crossing his arms. “And what do you mean ‘How did I get outside?’ You jumped out of the window of our hotel room and onto a jeepney. I had to chase you halfway across the city!”

“I did?” The younger sibling scratched his head. “I don’t remember any of that…is that why you’re all scratched up? I’m sorry.”

“But…” Yakko’s mouth hung open, but no words came out. For once, he felt himself rendered speechless.

“Hmm…” Wakko was thoughtful for a moment, gently swinging his hammer in one hand and rocking on his heels, but quickly lost his balance and stumbled backward onto his butt. “I heard once that bein’ drunk can make you sleepwalk. The last thing I remember was you talking to me until I fell asleep.”

_That…actually makes sense._

As Yakko watched his brother’s face closely, he could tell he was being honest. Wakko had never been one to lie, and despite everything that had happened tonight, he knew that wasn’t something that would change. A frown touched his lips as his feelings of worry were suddenly replaced by pangs of guilt.

“Wakko,” he said softly. He extended a hand out to him and gently pulled him up from the ground before shoving his hands into his damaged slacks. “…If you were sleepwalking that entire time, then that means I yelled at you for no reason. Ehhh…I usually don’t even _get_ mad at you or Dot,” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “But I lost my temper at you once I got you off that jeepney. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just mad at myself too for letting any of this happen.”

Wakko grinned his signature goofy grin, complete with tongue peeking out of his mouth. “Ya know what’s good about the sleepwalking thing, though?”

Yakko raised an eyebrow. “That it can sometimes be used as a defense in a court of law?”

“No, besides that!” he replied with a shake of his head. “I don’t remember you yelling at me either!”

The older sibling blinked, then chuckled. “So, you’re not upset?”

“How can I be?” he asked. “It’s not like you knew I was sleepwalking. You don’t have to be mad at yourself, I would yell at me too! Now get over here, ya big lug.” He outstretched his arms, allowing Yakko to envelop him in a hug.

Yakko rubbed his sibling’s back once again, and for the first time that night, he could finally feel the emotion he wanted to feel: completely relieved.

The hug was starting to make his cuts and bruises hurt a little, though.

“Alright, Wak, you can let go now,” he said. After a few seconds of Wakko not moving, he sighed. “You’re still not fully functional right now, are you?”

“Am I ever?” Wakko asked, his face still buried in Yakko’s shoulder. “But no, my head is still spinning. At least I know where I am, though.”

Yakko looked around the unfamiliar street, which was now dead as the night it stood in. They were surrounded by old shops and houses, all covered in graffiti. Trash littered the sidewalk and roadways, and not a soul was in sight.

“Well, that makes one of us.”

**XXX**

As they wandered through another street, Yakko pulled a water bottle and a box of Twinkies out of his hammerspace. “You need to eat, sib.”

“But you haven’t—”

“Wakko,” he insisted, handing him the water bottle. “You’re hypoglycemic and you have grog in your system. We’re not taking any chances. Now open up.” With a slight sigh, his sibling opened his mouth, allowing him to throw the entire box in. “And drink all the water—” Wakko threw the entire bottle in. “Okay, that works too.”

The middle child gulped his snack down and looked around. “Do you think we’re gettin’ closer to the hotel?”

“I sure hope so,” Yakko muttered. This street wasn’t completely dead—there wasn’t really anyone else on the sidewalk, but taxis, jeepneys, and tricycles were passing by frequently. Not that it would do them any good—Yakko didn’t have any cash left on him, and Wakko’s measly twenty-six American cents wasn’t exactly turning heads. He wished he had thought to grab a map of the city at the airport so they at least had _some_ idea of where they were going.

As they turned around another corner, the sound of loud music came from the other end of the street. Above the graffitied building, Yakko could see a neon sign that matched the karaoke advertisement on the jeepney Wakko had taken a ride on. He jerked his head in the direction of the building. “C’mon. Maybe we can ask for directions.”

When they finally reached the building, he stood on his tip-toes and peeked through one of the dirty windows. Inside was a stage with a karaoke setup, along with dozens of bodies in a mosh pit in front of it. It didn’t take very long for him to realize that over half of the bodies were straight out of a Miss Universe swimsuit competition.

“Hellooooo nurses!” he exclaimed, eyes glued to the mass of hot girls.

“Hey, I wanna see!” Wakko shouted, hopping up and down to see into the window. After a few jumps, he cringed and rubbed his head. “Maybe that wasn’t a good idea…”

Yakko playfully rolled his eyes and picked his brother up by the armpits. “Here, look.” He lifted him up so he was eye-level with the window.

Wakko’s tongue instantly dropped out of his mouth. “This isn’t Cebu,” he said dreamily. “This is heaven!”

_“Hoy! Pahawa gikan sa bintana!”_

The two turned around to see a burly, dark-skinned man with a beard glaring down at them, his figure easily at least twice Yakko’s height.

Yakko put his brother down behind him and grinned nervously. “Ehhh… _Kumusta, kami mga Warner Brothers. Taxi?”_ The man growled and stepped closer to them.

“I don’t think that did anything, Yakko,” Wakko said quietly.

The older brother backed away from the guy a little. “Visayan’s not my strongest language.” He looked back up at the man. “Hey, nice beard! Look, my brother and I don’t want any trouble, we were just—oof!”

The man grabbed him by the chest with one giant hand and lifted him several feet off the ground, squeezing his cuts and bruises so tightly Yakko could feel his eyes start to sting. The oldest Warner looked down at his brother. “Wakko, get out of he—”

“HEY!” Wakko yelled, glaring at the man. “You can’t do that to my brother!” He whipped his mallet out of his hammerspace and smashed the guy on the head with it, hard. With little birds spinning around his head, the man tumbled to the ground, dropping Yakko onto the pavement.

“Well, I didn’t get my butt kicked, but it sure feels like it,” Yakko said, rubbing his tush as he stood up. He looked at his brother. “Nice swing, though, Wak. We should get out of here before—"

He was cut off when two white (screaming?) streaks went flying through the window next to them, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. The sound of girls shrieking pierced their ears as multiple women ran out of the building.

“Ehh…maybe we can ask for directions somewhere else,” Yakko said with another shrug.

“Egad! Yakko, you look like you’ve jumped off a tricycle! Narf!”

Yakko looked down on the sidewalk and realized that the screaming he heard from the projectiles hadn’t been his tired mind playing tricks on him. Battered and bruised, two white mice were brushing themselves off on the sidewalk in front of them, a shorter one with a large head, and a taller one with an extreme overbite. “Pinky! Brain!” he and Wakko exclaimed.

“Yes, it is I, the Brain,” the shorter one said, flicking a speck of dirt off his arm. “Once again, another plan to take over the world has failed us.”

“And we spent so much on plane tickets to get here,” Pinky sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye. “I even had to sell my favorite ball of dryer lint.”

Brain rolled his eyes. “A great loss for you, I’m sure.”

Wakko put his mallet back in his hammerspace and stepped away from the unconscious guy. “What was the plan this time?” he asked.

“It’s common knowledge that Filipinos are unable to resist karaoke night,” Brain explained. “I do sing…occasionally. The plan was for us to travel to the Philippines and use my talents to become famous singers. Then, once we were beloved by everyone in the country, the citizens would choose me as their leader. This would give us a complete monopoly over the exporting of dried mangoes around the globe. Using the rest of the world’s love for the sweet fruit, I would bribe each world leader into making me their supreme ruler, and thus, take over the world!”

“It was a brilliant plan, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “It’s just too bad the girls in that club aren’t fond of mice.”

“Yes,” Brain agreed. “The only fatal flaw in my magnificent plan.” He turned his attention to Yakko. “What brings you two to Cebu in the middle of the night?”

“I’m drunk!” Wakko declared with a grin, gesturing to himself with his thumb.

Yakko patted his brother on the head a few times. “We came out here to film a skit for _Animaniacs_ and he got carried away.”

“Oh, Wakko, you shouldn’t do that!” Pinky tsked, shaking his head. “You’re gonna have quite the headache in the morning. Make sure you drink lots and lots of water, get a good night’s rest, and have a breakfast that goes easy on the stomach.”

Brain narrowed his eyes at the taller mouse. “Pinky, how exactly do _you_ know how to treat a hangover?”

“Oh, the whole ‘takin’ over the world’ thing is so stressful, Brain,” he replied with a goofy smile and wave of his hand. “After our plans fail, I like to have a glass of wine meself sometimes. Poit!”

Brain was silent for a moment, then finally spoke. “That explains a lot.”

“Anyway,” Yakko continued. “We have no idea where we are or how to get back to the hotel. It’s near that big mall called SM City. Any chance you guys know how to get there?”

“Oh, what a happy coinkydink!” Pinky exclaimed, clapping his hands excitedly. “Our hotel is near there, too! Right, Brain?”

“Actually, ours is in the exact opposite direction,” he replied, giving him an unimpressed look. “But, nevertheless…I am not opposed to helping our co-stars get back to their quarters safely.”

“I can do better than a quarter,” Wakko said, pulling his change out of his hammerspace. “I’ve got twenty-six cents!”

Yakko reached down to shake the mice’s hands. “Thanks, you two. If we hadn’t run into you, we’d be wandering around the city all night.”

“Oh, it’s nothing!” Pinky said cheerfully. “We’re just happy to see you!”

Brain began walking down the sidewalk, gesturing the others to follow. “Come. While we’re looking for your temporary place of residence, Pinky and I shall discuss our plans for tomorrow night.”

“Why, Brain?” Pinky asked as he and the Warners followed him. “What are we gonna do tomorrow night?”

“The same thing we do every night, Pinky,” he replied. “Try to take over the world!”

Wakko hiccupped. _“They’re Pinky, Pinky and the Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain.”_

“I am not amused.”

**XXX**

About an hour later, the two siblings said goodbye to the mice and arrived safely at their hotel. Tired and weary, they trudged up the cement stairs. Luckily for Yakko, Wakko could at least walk this time, even if he had to go slowly to ensure he didn’t tumble backward. Once they reached the top, the younger brother finally spoke up as Yakko pushed the key into the lock.

“Thanks for going out and saving my butt, Yakko,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m sorry again that you got all scuffed up because of me.”

Yakko smirked as they entered the room. “That’s what I’m here for, Wak. Besides, those cuts and bruises’ll heal fast.” He flicked on one of the lights and saw their sister sitting on her bed. “Hey, Dot, did anything ha—”

“What happened to you?!” she exclaimed, pointing to him. “You look like you got trapped underneath a lawnmower!”

“By lawnmower, do you mean a nurse?” he asked, wiggling an eyebrow.

“You know what I meant,” she said with narrowed eyes. She hopped off the bed and approached her other brother, who was giggling at Yakko’s comment. “And _you!_ How could you jump out the window like that?! Do you have any idea how worried I—”

“It’s a long story,” Yakko interrupted, stepping in front of her. “Look, I don’t know about you two, but I really wanna go to bed. We have a very, very, very long flight in the morning.”

“Agreed,” Wakko said quickly, moving toward his and Yakko’s side of the room. “Sorry for scarin’ you, Dot.”

Dot sighed, defeated. “It’s fine. But you guys better fill me once I wake up.”

“Deal,” Yakko replied with a grin, shutting off the light. “Goodnight, everybody.”

**XXX**

“Ow!” 

Yakko inhaled through gritted teeth as his sister applied ointment to one of the numerous cuts on his arms. “You realize every time you put that stuff on it feels like I’m getting stung by a million bees, right?”

“Oh, quit being such a baby,” Dot lightly scolded, wrapping the affected area in a white bandage. “You’re lucky at least one of us bothered to go to that first aid class they give at the beginning of every season. You’re an infection waiting to happen!”

“Well, girls do say I have an infectious personality,” he said with a smirk.

“I think they’re worried about you infecting them with something else,” she muttered.

“Again, goodnight everybody!” he said as his sister pulled more bandages out of the first-aid kit next to her. The two were sitting on her bed as she tended to his wounds, the sunshine filtering through the window providing her plenty of light to work with. The rest of the night had been pretty uneventful, and Yakko had been so tired that he slept through all of Wakko’s barks and kicks. The only time he woke up was when his younger brother had bolted out of bed and into the bathroom before immediately throwing up the contents of his stomach.

“So, let me get this straight,” Dot said, rubbing ointment over a huge cut on Yakko’s elbow. “You almost got beat up by some bouncer guy and Wakko had to mallet him? And then Pinky and the Brain came flying through the window?”

“Exactly,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the searing pain on his arm.

“And you were peeking into that karaoke club because…?”

“There were a ton of nurses—OW!”

Dot squeezed the bandage around his elbow a little harder than necessary. “Boys,” she muttered. Giving the bandage one last loving pat, she put her supplies back into the first aid kit before slipping the kit in her hammerspace. “There. Luckily for you, and unluckily for your ‘nurses’, you didn’t bang up your face too much.”

Yakko had realized earlier that morning that she was right—while his arms, torso, and back were a bruised and cut-up mess, his head had gone unscathed for the most part. He only had a small scratch on one of his ears, which Dot had covered with a Band-Aid. “Oh please, sister sibling. You’re just jealous that I got all of the looks in this family.”

“Maybe weird looks from other people,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes. She grabbed his zip-up hoodie on the bed and tossed it to him. “Which you _will_ be getting once we step out into ninety-degree weather and you’re wearing that to try to cover up evidence of you guys’ little adventure last night.”

“It could be worse,” he replied, slipping the hoodie on. “I could have a hangover and a 14-hour flight waiting for me like Wakko.” As if on cue, a retching sound came from the bathroom. “Ehh…I’m gonna go check on him. Thanks for patching me up, sis.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. “Is he okay? Why did he drink that stuff in the first place, anyway?”

“I’ll talk to him,” Yakko said with a wave of a hand, walking toward the bathroom. He was soon leaned up against the frame of the doorway as his brother loudly vomited into the toilet for what felt like the tenth time that morning.

“Spew!” Wakko coughed. “This is worse than the time I got sick in Phoenix!”

With a shake of his head and a small grin on his face, he pulled an ice-cold water bottle out of his hammerspace and approached his brother. “You heard Pinky, Wak,” he said, careful to keep his voice down for Wakko’s sake. “You gotta stay hydrated.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, taking the water bottle and sitting on the floor, his voice raw and raspy. “I don’t feel like it’s making any difference. It all just comes back up.”

Yakko sat down next to him, careful to avoid upsetting his injuries, and pulled another cold bottle out of his hammerspace before gently pressing it to his brother’s head. “I know, but you gotta keep trying. Your headache and my bruises have a long flight waiting for us.”

“True. Ugh, I’m never ever going to touch alcohol again,” Wakko moaned.

The older sibling couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Would it be bad to say I was hoping you’d say that?”

“Not at all,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “I should’ve stopped drinkin’ it after the first sip.”

Yakko was quiet for a moment, debating whether or not to press the issue, but eventually decided that if they were already on the subject it would be better to get it out of the way. “Ehh…I know you’ve got a headache so I’m sorry to ask, Wak, but why _did_ you take the first sip?” he asked softly.

Wakko opened his eyes a little and looked down at the floor. “It really did start out as me just bein’ thirsty,” he explained. “I didn’t see the label and thought it was just gross water. But you know me. I’m not picky.”

The oldest wanted to joke about how that was an understatement, but held his tongue and let his brother explain.

“And then eventually I did notice the label,” he sighed. “And I was just…curious, I guess. We’re toons that don’t age, and I figured that I would never get another chance to try it, so…”

“…So, you kept going,” Yakko finished quietly.

Wakko nodded, fidgeting with the bottle in his hands. “I know it was a dumb thing to do, but…I dunno. Haven’t you ever been tempted by that kind of thing?” he asked, looking back up at his brother.

He smiled, immediately knowing the answer. “It’d be a lie if I said I haven’t.”

The younger sibling looked at him incredulously. “Really?”

“Sure,” Yakko said, leaning against the bathroom wall. “There’s lots of ‘adult’ stuff I’m interested in. Why do you think all the nurses I stare at are old enough to be in college?” When Wakko giggled, he continued. “And there’s the adult channel and all of those movies that we’re not allowed to watch. Even driving, Wak. Dot says I’m awful at it after the whole Batmobile incident, but it was kinda fun now that I look back on it.”

Wakko laughed again, then groaned when he moved his head a bit too fast. “I wish I could’ve been there for that.”

“Dot gladly would’ve traded places with you,” Yakko replied with a smirk, thinking back to the crazy night. It was hard to believe that it happened almost two years ago. “I know zaniness is our thing and all, but…even we should be careful about giving into some stuff, okay? I only did the Batmobile thing because we were running out of options lookin’ for you.”

The younger raised an eyebrow in confusion. “So, you’re saying we should give up looking at nurses, then?”

“Ehhh…now that I think about it, that one’s pretty harmless,” Yakko said, looking up at the ceiling. He looked back at Wakko. “Most guys our age do that, anyway. We’re just more obvious about it.”

“And you’re grosser about it too.”

Yakko jumped at the sound of his sister’s voice coming from the doorway and accidentally banged his elbow into the wall behind him. “OW!”

Both winced, Dot more out of empathy and Wakko more because the outburst had made his headache worse. “Sorry,” she said softly. “By the way, Barry just called. They want to film the next Wakkorotti segment as soon as we get back to Burbank.”

“I can’t do that!” Wakko exclaimed, his voice cracking through a rasp. “I’ve been burning my throat out for the last two hours…” He quickly shut up when the volume of his own voice sent another pulse of pain through his skull.

“It’s alright, Wak,” Yakko said, rubbing his elbow. “You can just do it with hand farts. We’ll tell Plotzy and the crew that you have laryngitis or something.”

“I’m sure they’ll buy that,” Dot said sarcastically. “Also, they asked us to host the wrap party for the season.”

“Why?” the oldest sibling asked.

“The songwriters want an excuse to stick the line ‘happy hour in the water tower’ into a song.”

As Wakko threw up into the toilet once again, Yakko picked up one of the water bottles on the floor and gently pressed it to his brother’s head.

“Irony is a cruel mistress,” he muttered, once again rubbing his brother’s back.

After Wakko was finished with his business, he gasped and lifted his head. “It’s okay. As long as she’s pretty.”

Dot smacked her palm to her face and joined them on the bathroom floor. “Like I keep saying. _Boys._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you enjoyed it. It’s the longest chapter I’ve written in all my years of fanfiction (almost 10k words).  
> I’m from America, but my mom is from the Philippines, so I’ve visited there for about a month at a time a few times. It was really fun to write in real-world references that I have experienced firsthand. Yes, tricycles are a real thing, and they were my favorite mode of transportation lol. The driving there is also crazy compared to America. The comment about the double yellows is not an exaggeration. 
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think of the chapter! Writing Wakko drunk was definitely hard. Not because I didn’t know what to write, but more so because I just felt bad for him lol. Writing Yakko was a little harder too since we never really see him get too mad at his siblings so I didn’t have much to go off of. I honestly feel like he wouldn’t yell that much, but he definitely would have things to say (as always lmao). So I tried to incorporate that here. Hopefully it wasn’t too OOC. I always do my best to stay true to the source material. Let me know what you think!


	8. Origin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late at night when all the world is sleeping, in March of 1930, three inseparable siblings are born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, it's reboot day! Here is my take on the Warners' origin story--basically an expansion on the story Yakko told Wakko in the last chapter. I was inspired by “Humble Beginnings” by CartoonGeek88 on FFN, as well as the Warners’ 65th Anniversary Special. TONS of references to that episode in this chapter. Enjoy!

_ Origin _

_“Hey, Lon. While that ink’s drying, come check out what Chuck drew. Should be another big hit.”_

_“Alright, Weed. Be there in a second.”_

The sounds of a man shuffling around echoed through the room, followed by footsteps and the unmistakable sound of a door being shut behind him.

The newly drawn toon didn’t spare a second. With a grin, he hopped off the drawing board and into the physical realm. The endless whiteness around him quickly faded away as he materialized into a solid form—a creature, living and breathing—and landed gracefully on the wooden chair in front of him. He couldn’t stop smiling—the wood beneath his feet, the fabric on his gloves…it was so _real_.

It was also so strange. An hour ago, he didn’t exist, and now he was here, alive as the two men that had just walked out of the room.

He sat down in the chair, swinging his legs which were _just_ short enough so that his feet never touched the floor. The room was full of books, drawings, sketchpads, and art supplies. There was a little window to another room above the desk he had just leapt from, which currently didn’t show much since the lights in the other room were off. On the wall to his right, there was a calendar which showed the month of March, 1930.

Though he had only been alive for about one minute, he somehow knew that he was standing in an animation room.

As his eyes scanned the bookstand next to him, he realized something else—he could _read._

He continued to eye the spines of each book, spotting titles about character design, the animation process, and the history of the studio he was currently in. A loose piece of paper on the shelf closest to him caught his eye, prompting him to hop off his chair and investigate. Standing on his toes, he reached up and grabbed it before holding it in front of him and reading its contents.

_To New Toons,_

_Welcome to Warner Bros. Studio (and to your brand-new life)! You have been created to star in our cartoons. Shortly after you have been drawn, you will be assigned a director. This director will not only guide you during the creation of cartoons, but will also introduce you to your voice actor. You might be mute now, but with our state-of-the-art recording equipment, you will help the director choose the perfect voice for you!_

_Depending on your role in our cartoons, you may also have been born with the potential to use certain toon powers, including hammerspace, spin-changes, short distance teleportation, door painting, toon-speeding, and more. On days when you are not filming, you will be given the opportunity to train under more experienced toons to hone these special skills._

_Once again, welcome to our studio and your new life as a star. We look forward to working with you!_

_Sincerely,_

_Harry, Sam, Albert, and Jack Warner_

The toon smiled at the letter before putting it back on the shelf. Starring in cartoons, learning to use all of those toon-powers…like most other creations, he immediately felt that it would be a fulfilling career.

He hopped back onto the desk, careful not to knock over the inkwell that sat near the edge, and gazed into the window. Sure, he couldn’t see what was in the other room, but it made a good mirror.

He put a hand to his chin as he examined every aspect of his reflection, from the brown slacks that swallowed his lower half, to the bright, beady eyes and red nose on his face. He smirked to himself. “Yakko Warner, you are one handsome guy.”

He gasped, immediately covering his mouth with his hands.

Did he just… _speak?_

_But the letter said…_

He snatched a paintbrush off the desk and held it up like a microphone, talking to his reflection. “Ehhh…testing, testing, one, two.” He grinned, hearing the sound of his own voice again. He _could_ talk!

“Oh, thank goodness!” he exclaimed, tossing the paintbrush behind him. “I had so many things to say! And so many questions. Like…” he trailed off, frowning. Being able to talk was a blessing, but it wasn’t very useful if there was no one around to answer you. He stared back at his lonely reflection. Something felt…missing. Two somethings, to be exact. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

_“Like I said. Chuck just made another great toon, and we’re running out of time to spice up those Buddy cartoons…”_

Quickly turning around, Yakko could see the shadows of two men approaching the room. He jumped off the desk and onto the bookshelf, scaling it in under a second before tucking himself in the shadows between its top and the ceiling. As soon as he had hidden himself away, holding his newly acquired breath, the door flung open, revealing a skinny brunet man and a shorter balding one with a mustache.

“Alright, Lon,” the brunet said, smoking a cigarette. “Let’s see what you’ve got so far.”

The shorter man walked over to his desk and grabbed a piece of drawing paper on his desk—the very one that Yakko had jumped from just a few minutes ago. “I drew this crazy puppy-kid thing,” Lon said, his eyes still on the other man as he held up the paper. “I’m planning on giving him a little brother—"

_A little brother?_

“That’s a blank piece of paper,” the brunet groaned.

Lon looked back at the white parchment and screamed, dropping it on the ground. “But I swear I had a whole character created and everything! You gotta believe me, Weed!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Weed replied, taking a puff from his cigarette. “Damn things are getting faster and faster at jumping off the page themselves. Remember that duck Bob drew? Porky’s still trying to track that nutjob down.”

“What are we gonna do?” Lon asked nervously.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Weed said with a wave of his hand. “We’ll send security lookin’ for him. In the meantime, keep working on new toons. We’ve got less than 48 hours before we have to show the new CEO the Buddy skit.” He walked back toward the door and opened it. “Remember, Lon. I want _funny_ ,” he emphasized, then slammed the door behind him.

Lon muttered nervously to himself as he grabbed a new sheet of paper from the drawing board and quickly began sketching. Yakko watched with curiosity from his hiding spot, his hands covering his mouth and nose to keep Weed’s smoke from burning his nostrils.

He didn’t know why, but he had the strongest urge to launch himself onto the desk below and make a grand entrance in front of this unsuspecting man. Maybe with a song or two. Instead, he resisted the temptation and watched the man draw; he had mentioned something about giving Yakko a little brother, after all.

His mind buzzing with excitement, he continued to watch Lon’s hand zoom across the paper, quickly sketching the basic shapes of the character before grabbing a pen and outlining its silhouette. He then took a pencil and black marker and did the necessary coloring and shading. Very soon, the toon could see a drawing on the page that looked very similar to himself—it looked to be a little shorter and younger, had a completely different outfit, and had its tongue sticking out of its mouth, but their faces were so similar it was like peering into the window all over again. He grinned as Lon grabbed a bright red marker and colored in the drawing’s nose, completing the work of art.

“There’s another one done,” Lon said with a tired sigh, sitting back and looking over his work. “Hope security finds the other. Weed’ll kill me if we don’t get this cartoon done on time…” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “I need a smoke.” With a grunt, he stood up from the chair and left his office, shutting the door behind him.

Not a second after the door clicked closed, Yakko darted off the bookshelf and landed on the animator’s chair, his heart racing with anticipation as he held the new drawing out in front of him. “Alright, brother sibling,” he said with a grin. “Hurry up and—”

He was cut off when a blinding light emitted from the paper, forcing him to squint in order to keep watching. Soon the toon on the page was moving, running towards him, getting closer and closer. Within the next second, he jumped off the page and into the real world, crashing into Yakko with enough force to topple themselves over, along with the chair.

“And there’s my first concussion,” Yakko said with a wince as he rubbed the back of his head. He looked down at the bundle of fur, arms, and legs in his lap to see a face much like his own staring up at him with admiration, a red tongue peeking out of the younger toon’s mouth. He could feel his heart immediately swell with joy as he held the little figure in his lap and a grin spread across his face. In the past hour, he had experienced a number of new emotions—surprise, excitement, anticipation, and a bit of loneliness. But this new feeling was something entirely different…absolute, unconditional love. “I’m glad you’re finally here, Wakko,” he said happily.

The statement and name, just like his feelings, had come effortlessly, as if he had known what his sibling’s name was since the moment of his own conception. How exactly it worked, he didn’t particularly know or care. The only thing that mattered to him was the fact that he had just become a big brother and that he would go to the ends of the Earth to protect and care for his new little sibling.

“You didn’t get hurt, did you?” Yakko asked. His brother shook his head, but he still checked him over anyway, shifting the red cap and blue turtleneck just a little to make sure there were no unseen cuts or bruises. “No injuries and no pants,” the older brother commented in an amused tone. He stood up and set Wakko on the chair. “Alright, Wak. My name’s Yakko and I’m your big brother. I have a feeling you already knew that, though.”

Wakko nodded eagerly.

Yakko raised an eyebrow at the silence. “Do you talk, too?”

The younger sibling shrugged.

“Something must be up with me, then,” he muttered, scratching his head. If Wakko didn’t talk, why could he? Especially if they came from the same animator and inkwell. He didn’t know much about the drawing process, but they should’ve had similar talents and characteristics, right?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a rubber ball bouncing off a piece of wood. “Whatcha got, Wakko?”

The younger sibling pulled a paddle-ball out from behind him and tried to bounce it a few times, but was unsuccessful. He eagerly shoved the toy into his brother’s hands, looking up at him expectedly.

Yakko flicked his wrist and had the stringed-ball bouncing up and down on the paddle in immediate succession, always managing to land dead center. “Hey, not bad,” he said with a smirk. “Where’d you find this?”

Wakko reached behind him again and pulled out a burlap sack, then stuck his arm inside and retrieved a mallet, three perfect pies, an anvil, and a spare tire, tossing them all on the ground next to him.

“You’ve already mastered your hammerspace…” the oldest whispered in amazement, handing the paddleball back to him. He smirked. “Okay, let me try.” He placed his hand behind him and, with a lot of concentration, slipped it into a floaty, vast emptiness. When he pulled it out, he produced a watery, off-colored banana crème pie and some confetti. He and Wakko blinked at the runny dessert. “Ehhh…looks like I’m not as good as you yet, sib.”

In response, Wakko grabbed all four pies and swallowed them in one, giant bite.

Yakko smiled. “It also looks like you have a big appetite. C’mon,” he said, gesturing to the door with his thumb. “Let’s go see if we can find you something to—”

“AAH!”

The two turned to the doorway to see their bald animator staring at them, a lit cigarette in his hand.

“How are you alive already?!” he exclaimed, pointing to Wakko. “I haven’t even been gone for ten minutes!”

The two brothers exchanged mischievous looks before leaping into the man’s arms. “We’re quick like that,” Yakko said slyly. He licked his index finger and put the cigarette out while Wakko gave the guy a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“HOW ARE YOU TALKING?!”

“Ya know, I was wondering the same thing,” Yakko replied casually, resting an elbow on him. “I read this letter that says toons need voice actors to talk. And the whole hammerspace thing. Are we supposed to be able to do that yet? Wakko just yanked a mallet and an anvil out of his like it was nothing.” He pointed to the pile of his brother’s stuff, prompting Lon’s jaw to drop to the floor. “So Frank,” he continued, ignoring the man’s reaction. “When are we gonna start learning all the cool toon stuff and making cartoons? Moist is nice, but my pies are a little too watery for my liking.”

“My name’s not Frank,” Lon said nervously, dropping the toons on the ground. He slowly backed out of the doorway and into the hall, keeping his eyes on the two before he suddenly sprinted down the corridor. “WEED!”

“You know, between that and the cigarettes, you’re not doing your lungs any favors!” Yakko shouted after him. He shrugged at Wakko before pulling him to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s go have an intervention with Frank!” His little sibling nodded excitedly before they dashed out of the room in hot pursuit of their new friend.

Lon ran as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him, occasionally throwing nervous glances over his shoulder at the creations that chased him throughout the building. He came to a screeching halt when he found a familiar office and yanked the door open before slamming it closed behind him.

“Weed…” he panted, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “You gotta help me. Those toons—”

“What now, Lon?!” the brunet snapped, getting up from his desk. He stormed over to the shorter man and gritted his teeth. “Can’t you see I’m talking to Mr. Plotz?” he hissed. “You know, the new _CEO_?!” He gestured with his hand to the short, fat man with a full head of black hair sitting in a chair opposite to Weed’s desk, a cigar in his hand.

“If you have something to say, make it quick,” Plotz said from his seat. “I’m a very busy man and I have lots of other meetings to attend tonight.”

Lon swallowed, wringing his hands nervously. “Yes sir.” He turned back to his coworker. “Weed, those kids I drew tonight, something’s not right with them. They’re not normal—”

“I hope they’re not,” Weed muttered. “The last time this studio made a normal toon, we ended up with Buddy the Boring!”

“No, not like that,” he said quickly. “I came back from the bathroom and—”

_CRASH!_

All three men quickly turned their heads toward the front of the office and saw two young, puppy-like toons standing in a hole in the wall, both with grins as the shorter one proudly held a mallet in his hands.

“MY OFFICE!” Weed yelled, grabbing his hair.

Plotz angrily stormed over to the two intruders, his face as red as a tomato. “Causing property damage in my studio,” he growled. “Do you have any idea who I am?!”

“A man who’s bad at introductions?” Yakko asked with a smirk.

Plotz and Weed’s jaws dropped to the floor while Lon cowered behind the two, trembling. “The tall one speaks and the little one already has a mallet and an anvil,” he whispered.

“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself and my sibling,” the toon continued, putting an arm around his brother. “I’m Yakko, and this is Wakko. We’re the Warner Brothers!” Wakko waved at the three dumbstruck men with his free hand.

“You are _not_ the Warner Brothers!” Plotz exclaimed, finally regaining his composure.

“Hey, who are you to talk?” Yakko asked, crossing his arms. “You don’t even know who _you_ are!”

Weed facepalmed and turned to his coworker. “Dammit, Lon, how much zany did you put in the ink?!”

Lon shrunk under his gaze. “…I’ve been working for almost 24 hours straight, Weed. I was tired and my hand slipped and…” He suddenly sighed. “I let the whole bottle fall in.”

“These kids are gonna be worse than that damn duck!” he exclaimed, shaking the animator by the shoulders.

“Ehhh…not to interrupt your very important meeting with lots of yelling, but do you mind giving us some answers as to why the two of us can already do so much?” Yakko asked. “And you might wanna make it quick. Wakko’s already taken a bite out of your bookshelf.” He pointed to the other side of the room where the younger sibling was chewing up paper, book covers, and wood all at once.

With an annoyed growl, Weed ran over to the boy and pried him off the shelf, holding him away at arm’s length. “The reason why you two are already so capable is because _Lon_ over here messed up,” he explained, glaring at the shorter man. “When we’re drawing toons that we want to come to life, we put a few drops of this stuff called ‘zaniness’ in the ink. Think of it as a seed for toon powers. Once the toon comes to life, they have the potential to gain a voice, use hammerspace, and do all kinds of gags. But if you put too much in…”

“You g-get toons who already know h-how to do a l-lot of s-stuff,” Lon stuttered nervously. “L-like you.”

“Wait a minute!” Plotz exclaimed, looking at the two men. “You mean to tell me that we’ve been paying voice actors and toon trainers top dollar when we can just dump this ‘zaniness’ stuff in the ink and they’ll get those abilities for free?!”

“It’s not that simple, Mr. Plotz,” Weed replied. He turned his attention to Wakko, who he was still holding up in the air. “Zaniness comes at a price. Sure, they might be talented, but you’ll be lucky if you can get them to behave themselves for more than five seconds so you can use that talent.” He glared at the child in his hands. “Some toons start out as mischievous, but they mellow out over time. But I’ll bet my career that these kids won’t.” As if on cue, Wakko wriggled out of his grip and went back to eating the bookcase.

“Thanks for the exposition,” Yakko said, wandering over to his sibling. “But I still don’t understand why—"

“You can ask questions on your own time,” Plotz grumbled, walking back over to his chair. “Lon, get these kids out of here. In fact, draw up another Warner boy when you get back to your office. If using this zany stuff is gonna get us capable toons quick and easy, we’re gonna do it!”

“Sir,” Weed insisted. “You’re making a huge mista—"

“I’m the boss, not you!” he shouted, grabbing Yakko and Wakko and shoving them into Lon’s arms, both looking particularly excited to be getting a new brother. “Now get to work, Lon, or you’re fired!”

Before the animator could react, a sultry figure with a large head, black hair, and a little red dress appeared in the hole Wakko had put in the wall. “Mr. Plotz,” she said, her voice naturally flirtatious. “I’m Betty Boop. I’m interested in working at Warner Bros.”

At the sight of her, Wakko’s tongue dropped out of his mouth as hearts formed in his eyes while Yakko swooned out of Lon’s arms and onto the floor.

“Hellooooo nurse!” he shouted, speeding across the room and jumping into her arms. “I’m one of the Warner Brothers and you can work for me anytime, if you know what I mean,” he said with a wink.

“Oh my!” Betty exclaimed, dropping him on the floor as her cheeks pinked. “On second thought, Mr. Fleischer offered me a job at Paramount. I think I might go over there instead.” She bolted down the hall, her little red heels clicking on the tiles as she ran.

“Wait!” Plotz yelled desperately. “He’s not one of the actual Warner Brothers, he’s just some kid who works here! Come back!” It was too late, however. Betty was gone. With a low growl, he grabbed Yakko by the scruff of his neck and tossed him back into Lon’s arms next to the still stupefied Wakko. “Lon?”

“Yes?”

“Forget what I said about giving them a brother. Make it a girl. Hopefully she’ll at least behave herself around attractive people.”

**XXX**

The Warner Brothers were back in Lon’s animation room, their little black beady eyes peeking over the desk as they waited in anticipation. Between Wakko’s voracious appetite and Yakko’s constant requests for them to jump on the man’s belly, Lon (or ‘Frank’, as Yakko kept calling him), ran out of the room screaming and pulling out what little hair he had. And so, the Warner Brothers sat alone, both eagerly waiting for their sister to hop off the page.

Wakko crawled onto the office chair so he could look at the drawing more closely. With a gentle hand, he touched the flower on the drawing’s head, careful not to smudge the pencil or ink.

Yakko hopped onto the chair and stood next to him, placing a hand on his sibling’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be a big brother, Wak,” he said with a smile. “I’ve only been one for a couple hours, but I already love it.”

The younger brother looked up at him and, as if there was some weird psychic connection, Yakko automatically knew what he was thinking.

“Relax, you’ll be great,” he said, squeezing his shoulder. “Besides, you won’t have to watch over her and protect her all by yourself. I’m still here for both of you.”

With that, Wakko smiled. He gently picked up the paper and held it up in front of him. In the same way he and Yakko had come to life, their sister began moving, first back and forth on the page, then towards them. Within seconds she was phasing off the paper and into the physical realm, yellow and pink coloring her flower and skirt before she tumbled into Wakko and they both fell on the floor with a thud.

“Falling off a desk isn’t very cute,” she muttered, rubbing her head.

 _She can talk too!_ Yakko thought. _Wait, no time for that. We have a sister!_

The same emotions Yakko had experienced with Wakko immediately flooded him, his heart so full he thought it might burst with happiness. The feeling of two ‘somethings’ being missing finally dissipated, leaving him whole. With a grin, he quickly hopped off the chair and onto the floor next to them before pulling them to their feet. “You two okay?” he asked gently. He could see the same love and concern for his sister in Wakko’s eyes, and couldn’t help but notice she was looking at both of them with the same admiration the youngest—no, not youngest anymore—the _middle_ Warner had gazed at him with a few hours earlier.

“I’m okay,” she said happily, brushing herself off. “Hi, Yakko. Hi, Wakko. I’m—”

“Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fana Bo Besca the Third,” Yakko said automatically. Once again, as soon as she had materialized, it was as if he had known this information his whole life. A small smirk appeared on his face. “A bit long, huh?”

“It’s my full title,” she said defiantly, crossing her arms. “It’s cute.”

“Ehh…it’s nice, sis, but how about we find a nickname that’s a bit shorter?” Yakko suggested, his brother nodding behind him. “Let’s see, let’s see…” He looked around the room before spotting a Warner Bros. shield paperweight on a shelf on the other side of the wall. After running over and grabbing it, a lightbulb appeared above his head, which was promptly gobbled up by Wakko.

“What’s that?” his sister asked.

“A paperweight,” Yakko said proudly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not calling me Paperweight.”

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s also the studio shield. Look, the ‘WB’ stands for Warner Brothers. That’s me and Wakko,” he said, gesturing to Wakko with his thumb. “And next to that there’s—”

A look of horror spread across her face. “Ew, Yakko, that’s even worse than Paperweight!”

“—a _dot_ ,” Yakko finished, handing her the little shield. “Dot Warner.”

She traced the little circle with a tiny finger and smiled. “Dot,” she whispered. “I like that.” Narrowing her eyes at her brothers, she added, “But call me Dottie, and ya die.”

“Fair enough,” Yakko said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Now, come, siblings. Let’s go find Frank and tell him our happy little family is complete.” He put his arms around his siblings and lead them toward the door.

**XXX**

Weed took another puff from his cigarette as he stared at his rambling coworker, unamused.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Weed, those kids drove me crazy!” Lon shouted, grabbing at his thinning hair. “The _whole_ time I was trying to draw their sister, the short one kept pulling random stuff out of his hammerspace and eating everything in my office! And his brother, oh my God! He never stopped talking! I gave him a copy of the lyrics to ‘I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General’ because I thought it would keep him occupied trying to learn it. Do you know what he did, Weed?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID?!”

Weed took a long, uninterested drag from his cigarette. “What did he do, Lon?”

“He looked at the paper once, crumpled it up and threw it away, then sang it PERFECTLY!” Lon yelled, wheezing at this point. “It takes most toons _weeks_ to master that! This kid got it down in less than five minutes! And then he kept asking if he and the little one could jump on my belly. They—”

Weed grabbed him by the lips to shut him up. “Lon, let’s not forget that _you_ were the one that poured too much zaniness into the ink.”

“It was an accident,” Lon squeaked, his lips still trapped.

“An accident that put a hole in my office wall and lost the studio a chance to make cartoons for Betty Boop!” he snapped. He freed the animator and sat back in his office chair, annoyed. “And now Plotz is expecting _me_ to direct these kids. Me!”

“I can help you watch over them,” the shorter man replied, trembling.

“Great, here’s your chance,” Weed said, crossing his arms. “If you wanna help, go back to your office and bring them here. Then we can—”

_CRASH!_

Lon turned around to see another giant hole in the wall, this time on the other side of the door. All three siblings stood in it wearing big smiles, Wakko once again holding a mallet in his hands.

“We’re heeeere!” Yakko and Dot sang.

“Great, another talker,” Weed groaned.

The animator, on the other hand, instantly screamed before jumping over Weed’s desk and smashing through the window behind it, leaving a Lon-shaped hole in the glass as he scurried off the lot and out of sight.

“Well, that’s one way to make an exit,” Yakko said to his siblings.

Weed pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “So much for helping me control the kids, Borax,” he muttered. With a sigh, he looked at the three toons as they entered the room. “What do you pests want?”

“A date with Clara Bow?” Yakko asked eagerly. Wakko nodded quickly behind him.

“Dinner with Errol Flynn,” Dot sighed dreamily.

“I’m serious!” Weed exclaimed, slamming his hand down on his desk. “What was so important that you had to put another hole in my wall?!”

“We wanted to tell Frank that our happy family is complete!” Dot said cheerfully.

“Didn’t you just see? You drove him out of the studio!”

“How? We can’t drive,” Yakko replied, crossing his arms. “Besides, Wakko ate the steering wheel to your car.”

“HE WHAT?!”

“Ehh…speaking of Wakko,” the oldest continued, calmly rocking back and forth on his heels. “We still haven’t gotten any answers as to why my dear brother can’t talk while Dot and I can.”

Dot jumped onto Weed’s desk, giving him the cutest eyes and pout she could muster. “Could you pwease, pwease, pwease explain it to us?” she asked sweetly. “We just wanna help Wakko.”

Defeated, the director sighed. “Fine,” he finally said. “When there’s excessive zaniness in a toon, the zany will go straight to your strongest characteristic before it spreads to your other ones. For example, Yakko’s a smartass—”

“Thanks!”

“—It wasn’t a compliment,” Weed deadpanned. “Anyway, Yakko’s written to be a fast-talking, singing smartass, so the zany gave him a voice without the need of a voice actor. But the zaniness hasn’t seeped into his hammerspace abilities yet. That’s why he doesn’t have anything but crappy pies in there.”

The oldest shrugged, pulling one out and feeding it to his brother. “Wakko likes them.”

“Yeah, a real win considering he ate my bookcase,” the director said sarcastically. “Wakko’s on the other end of the spectrum. His specialty is physical comedy, so the zaniness is focusing on hammerspace first. Verbal humor isn’t going to be his big shtick, so for now, he’s mute.” He then turned his attention to the youngest sibling, who was still sitting on his desk. “And your sister…”

“Dot,” she said. “But call me Dottie, and you die.”

“Right,” he continued with a roll of his eyes. “Dot, from what I’ve observed just now, is going to be the manipulative cute one. So, her zaniness gives her the ability to win people over just by batting her eyelashes. Being able to talk helps, so that’s why she already has a voice too. Wit and hammerspace will come later.”

“Aw, you’re too kind!” she replied with a sweet smile, which Weed ignored.

Yakko spoke up again, much to the director’s annoyance. “And you said it’s focusing on our strengths first, right?” He gasped. “Does that mean Wakko will talk later?”

“And Yakko and I will get better at using hammerspace?” Dot added excitedly.

“Yeah, but you three need to be in a cartoon by tomorrow,” the direct gruffly replied. “Hammerspace we can get around, but Wakko needs to be able to sing. I don’t know how we’re gonna find a voice actor for him so soon, but we’re gonna have to make it work.” He glared at the three. “Now is there anything else you pests want?”

“Ehh…how about a kiss?” Yakko asked with a smirk.

“GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!”

The three siblings snickered and turned to face the door as Wakko whipped his mallet out and hammered it down, connecting the two holes on the side and creating a giant one.

“Goodbyeeeee, Weed!” Yakko and Dot shouted before running down the hallway with their brother.

Weed took a deep drag from his cigarette and stared at the hole in the wall.

“I hate them.”

**XXX**

As soon as the sun rose, Weed found the Warners (harassing Porky, of course) and very reluctantly dragged them to one of the many recording booths on the Warner lot. The room was separated by a large window—on one side was a man with short hair and a mustache, surrounded by microphones and recording equipment, while on the other stood the Warners and Weed, surrounded by even more audio machinery. In front of Wakko sat a device that looked like a record player, but multiple wires protruded from the bell. Weed had been connecting them to the middle sibling’s head for the last two hours.

“Damn sound engineers,” Weed muttered, sticking another one near Wakko’s ear. “They’re never around when you need ‘em.”

“Hate to interrupt your brooding, Weed, but what does this thing do again?” Yakko asked. The director had already explained it at least three times, but the oldest was quickly discovering he had a special talent for annoying people and wanted to use it.

Weed groaned in exasperation. “For the _last_ time. It’s an Audio Inscriptor. It’s the machine that’s _supposed_ to give toons voices,” he emphasized, glaring at Yakko and Dot. “The voice actor on the other side of the glass will do a few lines into the microphone. Then the machine manipulates the voice into a physical form, sends it down these wires, and fuses it into your brother’s ink. The voice will become his and he will be able to say whatever he wants…unfortunately.”

“And it’s not gonna hurt him, right?” Dot asked. She had been following her brother’s lead in the ‘ask Weed the same question over and over again’ game.

“Again, _unfortunately_ , your brother will be fine,” he growled. “The most he’ll feel is a little warm while the voice is settling into the ink.” He placed a final wire on Wakko, who grinned at him goofily. “Okay. Now since we’re running low on time, we could only find one voice actor. But lucky for you, he’s the best in the business and has voiced all of our best toons so far.”

Yakko gasped. “Do you mean…?”

“Yes,” Weed replied, gesturing to the man on the other side of the glass. “Pests, meet Mel Blanc. Mel, meet the newest banes of my existence.”

Mel cheerfully waved from his recording booth, drinking from a coffee cup, while the Warners waved back.

The director rolled his eyes at the siblings again. “You kids better appreciate this. Mel’s a busy man and he’s doing us a favor by coming out here so early in the morning. That and he’s expensive,” he added under his breath before returning to his normal speaking volume. “And so is this machine. These wires can only be used once and I just spent two hours taping them all to Nutjob’s head. Once I press this button, Mel will do a few lines and you won’t be mute anymore. Understand?”

“Faboo!”

Weed’s jaw dropped to the floor as Mel did a spit-take onto the glass.

Yakko and Dot blinked, then began cheering as the oldest threw confetti in the air. “HE SPEAKS!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the director muttered.

“Why is he British?” Mel asked, but nobody heard him over the Warners’ cheers and the sound of Weed slamming his head into the wall.

“Wakko, what took ya so long?” Dot asked.

“Yeah, did the zaniness finally reach your voice?” Yakko added.

“Nah,” the middle sibling replied with a shake of his head. “I just didn’t have anything to say. Besides, Yakko does enough talking for the three of us as it is.”

“Hey!” the oldest exclaimed, faking offense. “Nah, you’re right. It’s a gift.”

Weed growled. “It’s a pain in the ass is what it is! All three of you are!” he yelled, as he stormed over to them, a large bump slowly growing on his head. He grabbed the three siblings by their ears and angrily stomped over to the entrance, booting them out of the building and into the lot. In quick succession, the Warners landed on their butts, far from the recording studio. “And stay away from me!” he added, slamming the door behind him.

Dot looked up at the oldest sibling. “Do you think he really means, that Yakko?”

Yakko shrugged, a smile on his face. “Not if he wants to get that Buddy cartoon done.” Standing up, he helped his siblings to their feet. “Sibs, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful, beautiful life and career. C’mon. Let’s go find a giant chicken and tell everyone he’s our agent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! This is the last one I'll be posting for a while, as I still have classes until late December. I'm hoping to write some more when I have free time, and hopefully incorporate some new ideas from the reboot! Thank you for every read, kudo, and comment. I really really appreciate it. Let me know what you think of this origin story! Until next time...goodnight everybody!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome. Goodnight everybody!


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